


Breathing Air

by Thesis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Double Anal Penetration, Hand Jobs, Idiots, M/M, boyfrenz, currently very tame but tagging and rating for later chapters, eventual m/m sex, eventual m/m/m sex, eventual?? polyamory??, i desperately need to note that i don't condone this irl, jealousy and anxiety, lots of makeouts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:58:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesis/pseuds/Thesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi enters a tentative relationship with Shimada, although he isn't entirely over Tsukishima. Tsukishima handles his jealousy poorly. Includes polyamory, overcoming past traumas, and learning to be confident unexpectedly. Summers with swimming trips and summers with anxiety disorders. And also gratuitous banging, eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm like a crow on a wire

**Author's Note:**

> i d k I'm just so about age differences, but also Tsukiyama. But also threesomes! so this is kind of like... self indulgent 'how to get there' fic.  
> edit: i gave it a slightly more accurate description lol

Makoto Shimada has had one too many to drink. Sitting on a crate out back behind the shop, he is all grins and laughter, and is no longer providing any real help to Yamaguchi's training, but the boy still lingers. Their practice has run so late that Yamaguchi is just kidding himself, trying to practice when he can hardly see the ball in the air. All he can do is look for the shadowed area in the sea of stars overhead. The air is chilled against his arms, but he doesn't shiver. 

Rather than training, it's an idle motion. Something to be doing with his hands and body to keep Shimada talking. He does not want to go home yet. There is a heating vent around back the shop that Yamaguchi sometimes brushes past, and the gust of heat reminds him of the small space heater he keeps in his bedroom. Whenever he turns it on he inevitably ends up getting drowsy.

Cold air usually refreshes him. When he is exhausted after his club activities, stepping out into the night always makes his lungs clear. It gives him the energy to come here to spend time with Shimada. 

Double practice each day takes it's toll. Yamaguchi tries not to yawn as Shimada regales him with stories of when he and Takinoue were in school. The time they hung up fake club posters, or the time in freshman year when Takinoue dated a popular third year and faced the wrath of her fans. The school festival incident. The popsicle stick incident. None of them are amazing stories. Some are boring and pointless and meander off into what Yamaguchi suspects was a different story entirely. 

But hey, at least the popsicle stick incident explained the weird off-colored patch of paint by the faculty office. Yamaguchi likes that feeling of being in on a secret. A stupid one, but it's like when Tsukishima catches his gaze to roll his eyes at someone else.

In return for the stories, Yamaguchi happily rattles off his own stories about Tsukishima. The two of them don't get up to many antics, not really, but Tsukishima's way with words is an adventure enough. Yamaguchi admits that he used to not care for reading, until he realized how much power there was in language. 

"Like, video games - the ones I like," he tells Shimada, now just tossing the ball up in the air and catching it again and again. "They're really simple. The gameplay is really fun so the story is easy, and so all the dialogue and stuff is super clear."

Shimada nods along to show he is listening, though he doesn't seem to know much about games at all. 

Still, Yamaguchi continues. He has to step forward to catch his own tosses. His aim is getting worse and worse the more tired he gets. "So I thought that was the kind of stuff I liked. But then I learned the way Tsukki can twist up words and make 'em lyrical but precise. And it kind of made..." 

He pauses. Looks up to see how closely Shimada is paying attention. He hopes that in this dim lighting he cannot see his blush. "It's stupid. But like, if I read stuff with Tsukki's voice in my head it makes it easier to read books."

The one-man game of catch, with its poorly aimed throws, leads Yamaguchi straight to Shimada. He catches the ball one last time over the man's head before looking down and noticing his wide grin. Yamaguchi knows what that look means. He has gotten that look too many times from his mother, when he talks about Tsukishima at home.

He blurts out, trying to distract from that part of the story, "Well, I still mostly just read light novels or stuff they assign in school!"

He waits. Shimada's grin does not waver.

"Tadashi," he sing-songs, ready to tease him, "I think you should tell Tsukishima how you feel!" Shimada throws his hands up like he wants to catch Yamaguchi's next toss, but with how close they are he seems like a child wordlessly asking for a hug.

Yamaguchi stares at him for a long moment, with his flushed cheeks and slightly crooked glasses. Shimada makes a brief kissy-face at him. An imitation of what he thinks Yamaguchi should do? What he thinks Tsukishima will do? 

Yamaguchi loves Tsukishima. Probably for five years, now. He tries not to keep track because - because it doesn't matter. People fall in love or have crushes, and if it's one-sided they eventually have to get over it and move on. 

This is why he has never been particularly perplexed by his simultaneous crush on Shimada. He has always thought love is probably something simple, and in its simplicity, cannot be a black and white matter and does not need to be excused or explained with rules. 

He is tired and his inhibition is shot, something Tsukishima has mentioned happens to him, often. Whenever he stays the night and stays up late, Tsukishima insists, he talks and talks without shame and can't be shushed as easily as usual. Yamaguchi takes great relief in his friend sounding more amused than anything else, because this means he isn't talking about The Thing from junior high. 

Shimada looks stupid with his pouting fish-lips, and if Yamaguchi had to guess, he's on the verge of making sound effects. 

Yamaguchi preemptively cuts him off by leaning down and _actually_ kissing him.

There is only a beat before Shimada's hands in the air lower to cup Yamaguchi's cheek with one hand, the other touching fingers feather-light across his collar. The motion feels smooth and casual, like a natural reaction. Shimada kisses back, a soft press back against his lips.

It is brief, but warm and wonderful and Yamaguchi thinks that of all the idiotic shit he has done or said because he was exhausted, this has been the best mistake. And if he is being honest, he _likes_ Shimada, he really _really_ does. The other day Tsukishima, particularly ill-tempered over who-knows-what, had glared at nothing and told him, " _too_ much, Yamaguchi. Shut up about him, already."

His heart feels flooded full. Tsukishima was smart to have noticed; Yamaguchi bets he's had him figured out for weeks.

But Shimada suddenly jerks away from him, pulling back so quickly that he falls backwards off the crate.

Yamaguchi stares down at him, amused. Until the cold air washes over his heated face and kick-starts his brain back into reality. His lungs feel ice cold even as his ears are burning up. He realizes what he has just done and compreheneds that it will have lingering effects. He runs a hand down his face, already feeling nauseous and stupid.

He hears the sound of Shimada pulling himself to his feet and clearing his throat. From between his fingers, he watches Shimada ruffle his own hair and adjust his glasses like it's helping him to organize his thoughts.

"Well. That." Shimada almost manages to say. Yamaguchi finally lowers his hands from his face, although he doesn't want to with how red his cheeks must be. Shimada looks physically pained, and his fingers are still holding his glasses in place as though they will fall if he lets go. He eventually decides to finish a sentence, reminding Yamaguchi firmly, "I'm twenty six years old, Tadashi."

Yamaguchi may be shy, may be insecure. But he knows a whole lot about non-answers. Tsukishima is the king of answer-avoidance. This is _nothing_. 

"I know," Yamaguchi replies, faster than he had expected from himself. Shimada certainly has a youthful face, but Yamaguchi has never once forgotten that he is a decade older. It has also never once been a negative, in his mind. "It's not _that_ much of a difference."

He is pleased that Shimada seems to take the time to consider his words before arguing. Even if the response he comes to is, "No, _but_..." Shimada finally drops his hands from his glasses. His thumbs toy with his pockets nervously, and Yamaguchi finds this irrationally cute. "That's not the point. Who I was at twenty six and who I was at twenty aren't that different. But who I was at sixteen and who I was at twenty _absolutely_ were. Do you understand what I mean?"

Not really, Yamaguchi thinks, even though he does. He has to breathe, and mentally talk himself through a good answer. He wants to sound like he has thought about this longer than the three minutes since Shimada looked up at him with a stupid drunk kissy-face.

Yamaguchi tells him, "that's normal, though. Obviously someone my age is going to change a lot in the next couple of years. That doesn't mean they can't change _with_ someone, or that they can't make any decisions yet."

Shimada does not seem to have a response for that. Yamaguchi has heard every warning one can about older men going after much younger boys. As clueless, innocent jokes from his teammates who would make the joke to anyone. As peeved warnings from Tsukishima, telling him to shut up about his apparently obvious crush. 

Those kinds of warning stories never depict the older man fleeing from the younger's affection, he thinks. He wonders if that makes it any better at all.

"If I were dating someone my own age, we would end up growing a lot, together," Yamaguchi adds. "Even though we'd have just as much change to go through, that would be fine?"

"It's different," Shimada says, then after a moment, sounding stuck between awe-struck and baffled, "you want to date me?"

"I. Maybe?"

At the unsure answer, Shimada seems a whole lot less distressed by the situation. He _laughs_ , not condescending like Tsukishima does, but just - amused. Like Yamaguchi has told him a good joke at no ones expense, a joke they are both in on.

Yamaguchi feels shy and young, and for once it is not the former that bothers him the most. He blurts out, realizing just how painfully awkward he is before the words even leave his mouth, "I like you."

Shimada smiles, but suddenly looks as weary as Yamaguchi has been for hours. He does not say anything back. Yamaguchi needs more than maybe-maybe-not. He does not need excuses in the place of a no. 

Yamaguchi steps closer. His fingers come to rest gingerly against the hem of Shimada's sleeve. 

In the quiet of the evening, Shimada leans down and kisses him again. 

His hands are big and warm when they find themselves back on Yamaguchi's cheeks. They feel comfortingly in control, and Yamaguchi feels safely guided, like a gentle current. Shimada's fingers are soothing in his hair as he holds his head. 

Shimada's kisses are light. Just lips against lips like it is the most simple thing in the world. There is no embarrassment or desperation like Yamaguchi feels, because he is sixteen and hormonal. There is no tongue or biting or moaning like in movies, no abrupt shift from butterfly kisses to intense makeouts.

Yamaguchi is grateful things do not progress so fast. He is already overwhelmed. He hears himself whimper against the man's mouth and feels the puff of warm breath as Shimada chuckles at him. He still feels more comfortable than ashamed. Even if he is young and stupid, even if he is needy.

Shimada is soft as he kisses Yamaguchi's lips, and down his jaw and neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Tadashi Yamaguchi shows up to school, two weeks later, with kiss marks all over his neck.


	2. I've got a new disease in me

Tadashi Yamaguchi shows up to school, two weeks later, with kiss marks all over his neck. It is early summer, and Tsukishima has been resolutely pretending he is above counting down the days until their vacation starts. He also pretends to be far, far above noticing the vivid bruises that peek out from under his friend's collar. 

Yamaguchi seems to be trying to pretend they aren't there while simultaneously being aware of nothing else. His hand keeps making its way to adjust his collar. To scratch at his neck and adjust his hair. His eyes are often intensely on Tsukishima, which is normal in its own way, but this time as if he's checking. Trying to catch Tsukishima staring, or making sure he isn't.

Tsukishima does not give him the satisfaction of getting caught. He looks him in the eyes as always; does not react in the slightest.

It takes half-way through lunch break for Yamaguchi to calm the fuck down and act like a human being again. Though his normalcy is really the opposite of a calm. He's been dazed and spacy all through classes, but when he relaxes, he gets energetic and noisy.

Tsukishima listens to him ramble on and on about his practice sessions with Shimada and all the boring stories the man tells him. Only now that Yamaguchi has forgotten all about his marked-up neck does Tsukishima lets himself stare.

"Tsukki?" Yamaguchi finally notices, speaking up with his chopsticks still resting idle on his bottom lip and a grain of rice stuck to his cheek. How he manages that, Tsukishima will never understand. 

He stares, but not at the stray rice. Yamaguchi's lips are gently parted, questioning. Tsukishima pictures them swollen, slick and shiny with spit. Someone did that. Must have. He didn't know Yamaguchi had a girlfriend. He wonders what else they have done.

The idea that Yamaguchi could keep secrets from him startles him, if he's honest. Yamaguchi tells him everything, whether he means to or not. A 'secret' from Yamaguchi is ten minutes of guilty glances and red cheeks, then hands covering his mouth as if it keeps the words in even as he admits _I didn't want to tell you, but..._

Besides, Tsukishima can usually read a secret without being told. He's always been able to pin-point people's insecurities and weaknesses with a glance. He doesn't even _need_ Yamaguchi to turn around and repeat any secrets he's been told by others, although he welcomes the amusement. Sometimes it baffles him, to be honest. People will let Yamaguchi laugh in their face, will see first hand the way Yamaguchi falls into pack-mentality at Tsukishima's side. Those same people will still spill their heart out to him as if he is a reliable friend the second Tsukishima is gone.

Yamaguchi is a good person, unlike Tsukishima. He is reliable in many ways.

Tsukishima takes a twisted satisfaction that being an asshole with him has always trumped whatever goodness is in Yamaguchi. He likes the importance of it, because he has always believed, deep down, that everyone and everything is insignificant. A blip on the planet and in time and in space. This doesn't make anything meaningless, just insignificant. A person only exists in their reflection from others, and if Yamaguchi is his scale, then Tsukishima is a god.

Well, not that he believes it to that extent. That would he ridiculous.

Tsukishima leans forward, closer than he needs to, really, because he hasn't forgotten about junior high, and he'll use whatever he can to get the upper hand, even if the memory still nauseates him with guilt. He runs his thumb over Yamaguchi's cheek, brushing away the stray rice. Watches the way Yamaguchi gulps, freezing up and staring back at him like a deer in the headlights.

The class is a quiet buzz, everyone eating their lunch and chatting like normal. The sound is distant in his ears, like he is hearing it from underwater. All that matters is finding out. his eyes pointedly darting to Yamaguchi's neck and back, "who left those?"

Yamaguchi is still blinking at him, wide eyed. As if, despite all his anxious fidgeting about them, he hadn't expected Tsukishima to notice. His whole face flushes, and after a few failed attempts at speaking, he gives up and devotes his attention to eating.

Tsukishima hums his annoyance, but is mildly placated watching Yamaguchi's shoulders tense uncomfortably.

"Girlfriend?" Tsukishima questions, and at the way Yamaguchi's gaze shoots to the side, tries again. "Boyfriend?"

Yamaguchi's voice is guilty and vaguely hysterical. "Can we not?" 

Tsukishima shrugs and lets him off the hook for now. Something about that answer didn't seem to quite hit the mark. He can usually read Yamaguchi's panic. This is not something to be proud of, but he is proud of it.

Yamaguchi mumbles a weak "sorry, Tsukki."

Tsukishima waits for him to brush past the awkward subject and pretend everything is normal, and to start yammering away about something inane and unrelated. That is usually the way Yamaguchi dodges topics. Blatantly and stupidly, but Tsukishima has always let it be successfully.

The silence drags on through the rest of their lunch break, uncomfortable and tense in a way that Tsukishima is not familiar with. He has never let other's tension get to him. Other people feed off each other's emotions and spiral themselves into tighter and tighter coils of nerves. Yamaguchi does this, like a parasite. 

It didn't used to bother him, much. He knew. He could watch Yamaguchi wind himself up and still feel nothing. 

But then junior high had happened, and Tsukishima hadn't relaxed his shoulders for months, watching Yamaguchi. But Yamaguchi wasn't feeding off of his tension, that time. He hardly existed in Yamaguchi's eyes, then.

Now he does. He doesn't know how much space he takes up in Yamaguchi's eyes, but he had just thought - if there was anything he could do.

Ever since junior high, Tsukishima has been more vigilant than ever in not feeling other's tension. Yamaguchi is always too nervous for that to be sustainable, leaving the enthusiasm of their other teammates aside. That isn't the whole reason, though. 

If Tsukishima allows himself nerves, Yamaguchi will feed off of them. 

But today he feels bitter and frustrated, and he does not bother to hide his dissatisfaction. He watches Yamaguchi slink further and further in his seat, watches his hands shake. He watches Yamaguchi bite his bottom lip until it bleeds, then commands him, "stop."

Yamaguchi flinches. His gaze flits up to Tsukishima, then back down to his lap. 

Tsukishima does not like secrets, and takes vindictive pleasure in letting Yamaguchi wallow in his irritation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Makoto Shimada is not actually his boyfriend, at first - not exactly.


	3. I hear you buzzing, a fly on the wall

Makoto Shimada is not actually his boyfriend, at first - not exactly. Unlike in all the admittedly terrible light novels Yamaguchi likes so much, this is no misunderstanding. They do not wallow in failed communication and mixed signals.

They talk. 

He is at Shimada's house, comfortably lounging on the older man's bed and flipping channels as if this is how it has always been. Like it is a second home to him - as if it were Tsukishima's house. Yamaguchi knows that Shimada does not have ulterior motives - after all, he is the one to invite himself over. Shimada allows it without a second thought, even when he is the one to always pull away first when the kiss. The one to draw his hands away even as Yamaguchi pleads with his eyes to keep them on him.

Yamaguchi's hair is still dripping wet on the towel draped over his shoulders after a bath. He spent the whole time, soaking in hot water, thinking of different ways he wanted it to go. But Shimada does not make such bold moves. Or any moves, really. He is not shy and awkward in mot situations, but has never been the flirtatious sort.

Yamaguchi calls out, almost idly, "Do you think we should be dating-dating?"

Shimada pokes his head from the hallway, curious. Yamaguchi can smell frying vegetables and it reminds him of when his parents used to work mornings instead of overnights. Everything about Shimada is comforting to him, but the parts that feel parental make him vaguely concerned for himself from a psychological stand-point. He makes a note to ask Tsukishima about Freudian psychology in more detail. Then rethinks that, and makes a note to absolutely never mention it to him and maybe do some searching online on his own.

Shimada does not look particularly phased by this question one way or another. Instead he just prompts an explanation with an, "Oh?" before returning to the kitchen.

Yamaguchi raises his voice over the sizzling dinner, "It's not like you're wrong about the... Age difference. Thing. It's..." He doesn't want to say bad or weird. "Different."

"Dating-dating," Shimada calls back, sounding amused. "Is that for when you like-like each other? Or do you want to friend-date me?" Yamaguchi mutes the tv in time to catch the sound of the man snickering.

"I'm already friend-dating Tsukki. Friend-dating is just being best freinds, right?" He calls back, rolling his eyes but smiling all the same. He tosses and turns on the bed, unsure of where exactly he was going with his original question.

Shimada's house is small but comfortable. It's simple, but cozy and lived-in. Yamaguchi has always thought big houses like Tsukishima's were a bit unpleasant. He likes room to stretch out, but not much more than that. It seems wasteful to have any more.

He wants to wait until Shimada is in the room for the rest of the conversation, and rolls around restlessly with the tv on low in case Shimada tries to talk to him. There is nothing good on, and all Shimada has stored are boring science documentaries. 

He winds up laying on his back with his head hanging off the edge of the bed, staring at the programs upside down. 

When Shimada enters, setting two plates of dinner onto the low table in the center of the room, Yamaguchi finally rolls over before climbing down from the bed to sit down with him.

"When I was your age," Shimada says, and Yamaguchi manages not to wince this time, "I used to eat in my room a lot. Eventually you get to that age where parents stop cooking all your meals for you, you know? Or where you don't eat dinner together."

Yamaguchi nods. He does not think his classmates are to that age, yet. But he is, and he understands.

"I thought when I had my own place I'd eat in the dining room, since the whole place was mine." He laughs. "But I feel like I spend all my time in this room."

It's true, Yamaguchi thinks.The rest of the house is oddly pristine compared to the bedroom. Shimada is in the habit of setting things down at the precise moment he does not need them anymore, no matter where that may be. 

He says, contemplatively, "It's nice to have the option, though."

"Is that basically how you want this to be?" Shimada asks, pointing meaningfully between the two of them with his chopsticks. 

Yamaguchi takes his time considering this and munching away at the meal. Shimada is a good cook. Yamaguchi is impressed, because even living alone doesn't ensure you'll learn. He knows that Ukai eats primarily take-out and instant food. The way he talks about it always makes Yamaguchi eager to pick up cooking tips where he can, now that his parents work too late to be cooking. 

Maybe Shimada can teach him to cook. He likes sitting down to dinner. He misses it, from when he was young. He wants to soak up everything he can from Shimada, because he thinks, somewhere guilty in the back of his mind, that this can only last so long. 

He meets Shimada's gaze and is immediately rewarded with a bright smile, though it tapers off into that interesting expression he makes when he remembers how inappropriate their relationship has suddenly become. 

"For now, I think so," Yamaguchi finally says.

Shimada muses, "that's probably for the best. This way you can think it through before getting serious." 

"I don't need to," Yamaguchi insists, so quickly that it makes him feel childish. 

Shimada seems to ignore him, continuing on contemplatively, "it's best to set ground rules for this kind of relationship, I guess..." 

Yamaguchi feels his shoulders sagging. He is already so used to Shimada hearing him out and talking to him like an adult, in the same way that he is used to being brushed aside by others. His gut tighten with a familiar anxiousness at the dismissal. His argument with Tsukishima resurfaces in his mind from where he had forcefully pushed it down, his mind eager to flood him with one emotion at a time.

He devotes his attention to his meal, all-but tuning out Shimada as his mind singles in on the brush off. He can feel himself over thinking it and mentally talks himself out of it. He knows it is rude of him, but he interurpts Shimada mid-sentence, desperate to stop himself from spiraling like this.

"--I don't like being half hearted about things."

Shimada doesn't seem to follow, tilting his head to the side. 

His cheeks are burning up, but he fights through it. It's this, or wallowing in his nerves. "You say I should think it through, but if we're not being serious then I can't judge it properly. If you hesitate, it's sabotage."

The words are more dramatic than Yamaguchi wants them to be, but guilt passes through Shimada's face, not confusion. He is entirely aware of what he has been doing, and Yamaguchi's eyebrows furrow at the realization. 

Shimada sounds tired again when he says, "I just... don't think you've thought this through."

His voice is too firm for the words, but Yamaguchi agrees, "I haven't."

Shimada blinks at him from behind his glasses. He manages a weak laugh. "Then why...?"

"I like you," Yamaguchi tells him. He feels his heart drumming in his chest too strong. He knows he will shake if he doesn't keep himself in check. "My reasons for not just dating like regular people and wanting to be - whatever we're going to be - aren't anything to do with you."

Shimada doesn't push it and ask. Instead he gives Yamaguchi a moment of quiet before saying, attentive and sincere, "My reason is that you are sixteen. And I _really_ don't want to ruin your life. Which is something that very well could happen."

Yamaguchi sighs. He looks at Shimada and just _sighs_ until the man continues. 

"That's why the rules. If this is going to be even remotely healthy for you,"

Yamaguchi wants to tell him that nothing is healthy for him, because he is an emotionally damaged weirdo. His 'type' is a guy he gets parental vibes from or a bossy jerk. He keeps quiet.

"You have to talk to me," Shimada tells him, raising one finger like he's going down a list. "If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, or if you need space. Any good relationship is founded on communication, and this one is already, uh. Questionable."

Instructions. Yamaguchi latches on eagerly, already feeling himself unwinding despite himself. He nods his consent.

Shimada's cheeks go red, but his tone doesn't change. "Rule two: no sex."

His face falls. "But--"

"Tadashi." 

Yamaguchi hangs his head with defeat, thinking bitterly about how many classmates he has who aren't virgins. About his overactive imagination that springs to life at the slightest provocation, at the lightest touch. Not that he expected to be doing anything soon, and not that the thought didn't make him more nervous than anything, but he wonders how well a relationship can thrive without a physical element to it.

He is consoling himself that at least he can have kisses when Shimada clarifies, "Until you're eighteen."

His head snaps back up, eyebrows raised. His mind races through the implications. Firstly, that he will get to touch Shimada properly, get to be touched. He is surprised by how overwhelmingly it's outweighed by the idea that they will still be together in two years. 

Shimada barrels past it, "Thirdly, you have no obligations to me."

Yamaguchi is still feeling flutters in his heart from the last rule. "Buh?"

"You should be free to explore normal high school relationships, I think."

He opens his mouth to argue that he does not want to. He is dating Shimada, or whatever they're calling it, and so he wants no one else. But Tsukishima flashes through his mind even though he knows that it's an impossibility. He doesn't want to pretend he's over him. If he's going to be honest with Shimada, there's no way around admitting that he's still got it _bad_. 

He considers the idea of Shimada with another person. Kissing them, touching them. He would be lying to say it doesn't make him feel a twinge of jealousy, but it isn't as bad as he expected. He always feels ten times worse when he has to deliver love-letters to Tsukishima from girls in their class. 

Instead of saying it's unneccessary to have that stipulation, he says, "then, from me either."

Shimada looks startled, like he hadn't considered his side. "Alright. Any other rules for me?" 

Yamaguchi considers. Eventually he comes up with, snickering, "You have to teach me to cook."

As easily as that, their conversation spirals away from anything meaningful, though it takes the whole meal for Yamguchi's heart rate to calm. Even when he feels comfortable with the conclusions, his chest is still insistent on filling itself to the brim with nerves for half an hour. 

But it passes. 

After dinner, they sit on the floor, backs against the side of the bed. For lack of anything better, Yamaguchi finds himself watching a boring documentary. It's about particles, or the universe. Something he is not really paying attention to, even as he watches pictures of atoms and photons spiral around the screen. Shimada's hand is casually slung around Yamaguchi's waist. His fingers toy with the hem of Yamaguchi's shirt, idly twisting it around. Finally his fingers slip into his waistband, but then rest there innocently. 

He likes this feeling. Being able to accept things as they are without overthinking them terribly. Talking about them clearly and settling issues calmly. It feels very mature. Very adult.

It is not a feeling he is used to. Not with Tsukishima. 

A man on the show is explaining quantum entanglement. Particles get tangled up in each other and spend the rest of their existence affecting each other. When one moves, the other follows suit.

The thought crosses his mind that that is him, to Tsukishima. He feels his shoulders sagging at the thought, his mood quickly plummeting. "I think Tsukki is mad at me."

"Hm?" Shimada's hand at his hip moves to rub soothing circles in his lower back, and Yamaguchi melts into the touch.

"Mm... There were, um... Hickeys. Tsukki saw them and asked who left them."

Shimada's hand pauses for only a moment. Yamaguchi doesn't blame him for getting nervous. Missteps in secrecy would have much worse aftermath for him than for Yamaguchi. "I see."

"I didn't answer him. And then he didn't talk to me for the rest of the day." He pulls his knees up to his chest and stares straight forward resolutely at the linked particles on tv. "I think that it's bad, how much I circle around Tsukki. In my head, too. I'm always thinking about him. When he's mad I can't stop obsessing over it. Or when he's upset I want to cheer him up, but I can't."

He appreciates how long Shimada is quiet, letting him talk himself through it.

"There's a lot more that I do that's my own, now. And so I know that I need to stop and calm down, but I just... Obsess." His medication usually helps with obsessive habits and intrusive thoughts. He does not mention this to Shimada yet, although he knows he will need to, someday. "I want to stop, and I feel kind of. Guilty?"

After all, shouldn't he be thinking of Shimada? 

He does, all the time. He thinks of his touch and his hands and his smile. He thinks of the things he wants to tell him at practice and thinks the particular way that he adjusts his glasses. But then he thinks of how different it is from the particular way that Tsukishima adjusts his.

Only when enough time has passed that it's clear he's done talking does Shimada speak up, sounding rather matter-of-fact about it. "That's because things aren't settled, between you two. It's natural to think about a question until you know the answer. And to stop, once you do."

Yamaguchi shakes his head, slowly. "No. It's settled. I'm the only one still flying in circles around it."

"There's no such thing as closure," Shimada tells him. Yamaguchi blinks, startled. "That's probably not something I should say, but I think it's true. Life is too fluid to give you closure. You just have to move on from things naturally, at your own pace. There's a time for self-indulgence and a time to push yourself harder not to linger. But it makes sense that you'd have a hard time landing and letting go of someone you spend every day with. Not that I'm saying you should distance yourself from Tsukishima. I just mean that it's not strange."

Yamaguchi is quiet for a moment, then tests, "Are you mad that I'm like this?" He does not just mean Tsukishima. He does not want to talk about his anxiety yet, but he knows that the more serious their relationship gets, the more right Shimada will have to know about it. The more he will _need_ to know about it.

Shimada tells him, "nah."

Yamaguchi nods, feeling reassured for now, and returns his attention to the documentary. It tells him about quantum physics in simple, easy words. Tells him that things can be changed simply by being observed.

Yamaguchi is happy but exhausted on every level possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Kei Tsukishima says, "Stay the night," and like most things he says to Yamaguchi, it is a command, not a request.


	4. We walk out the cinema

Kei Tsukishima says, "Stay the night," and like most things he says to Yamaguchi, it is a command, not a request. 

After their last club practice of the school year, and after their last after-practice treat at Ukai's shop with the team, they walk back to Tsukishima's house together. Yamaguchi's house would be past his, but he obeys Tsukishima's lead and does not even suggest going there to pick up an overnight bag. 

Instead he borrows Tsukishima's clothes after bathing, sweatpants rolled up at the ankles and sleeves brushing over his fingertips. He seems pleased by it, nodding his head side-to-side as he plays Nokemon on his DS, sprawled over Tsukishima's bed. "It's cool to have clothes that are too big, for once. You're pretty much the only person taller than me," Yamaguchi says, and snickers to himself like it's another good joke Tsukishima has told him.

Tsukishima watches him from his desk out of the corner of his eye. He pretends to be reading, sounding falsely distracted. "I guess?"

"Even Shimada-san's clothes pretty much fit the same as mine," Yamaguchi says, clearly without thinking, tapping away at his DS with his finger-nails instead of the stylus.

Tsukishima blinks. The silence in place of a reply doesn't throw Yamaguchi off at first. He doesn't even seem to notice Tsukishima's eyes burning a hole in his figure. It takes the sound of his chair scratching across the floor as Tsukishima stands up for him to suddenly go beet-red.

"I - I mean," Yamaguchi stammers, "I just mean that. He. Shimada-san is. An adult! But he's a little shorter than me. You know!"

Tsukishima stands at the side of the bed, towering over him like no one else is able to.

"Tsukki?" He tries, voice wavering terribly. 

Tsukishima narrows his eyes, looking down on him. His shadow is cast over Yamaguchi's form. "So it's Shimada-san?" He asks, tapping at nonexistant hickeys on his own neck for emphasis. "That's creepy."

He knows better than anyone how easy it is to manipulate Yamaguchi. The fact that Yamaguchi looked happy doesn't necessarily mean anything, Tsukishima thinks heatedly. Statutory exists for a reason.

"--So, swimming, huh?!" Yamaguchi says abruptly, his voice over-loud. 

After practice today, Nishinoya had all-but climbed onto the table at the Foot-Hill Store and announced they were going on a team-swimming-trip in the summer, graduates included. He had forced it into the calender on all of their phones and even roped Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei into driving. 

Everyone had been surprisingly compliant, but Tsukishima suspects it was because Hinata looked on the verge of crying all day over summer vacation and losing the third years. The only thing consoling him was that Kageyama had agreed to practice with him over the break. Tsukishima thinks it is pathetic how close they are without either realizing it. They call themselves invincible together, call themselves rivals, but don't even get that they are best friends.

Well, not that he can decry that too much. Not with his track record.

Yamaguchi enthuses, a desperate and frankly pathetic attempt to change the subject, "that'll be fun!"

Tsukishima hums. Tsukishima climbs on top of him. Tsukishima straddles his lower back.

Tsukishima thinks this is probably the strangest way he has ever coped with frustration. 

He has always been poor at dealing with feelings. Expressing them. Having them. He doesn't like the way they spill out from other people like a waterfall. It seems undignified. 

But he does not feel as dignified as usual, with his thighs around Yamaguchi's sides.

Yamaguchi cranes his neck to look at him curiously, and Tsukishima reaches down to touch the other boy's neck. His touch is insistent, almost kneeding Yamaguchi with his thumb until he gets the message and turns his head back to face his DS. 

It's a trade-off. Tsukishima pretends Yamaguchi hasn't admitted to illicit behavior with a man ten years older, and Yamaguchi pretends that friends just climb on each other. They pretend that Tsukishima is the type to give backrubs. They pretend not to think about junior high.

Yamaguchi returns to his video game. He lets Tsukishima massage his neck, more gently now that he's in the right position for it. 

To the sound of beeps and digital monster cries, Tsukishima lifts the hem of Yamaguchi's shirt to rub at his hips. Almost idly. He's surprised by how much he likes the feeling. It's nice to have something to do with his hands, something to focus on to keep his mind blank when he knows he would be furious otherwise - and Yamaguchi's skin feels nice. He is firm and toned, but the feeling of his skin under his palms is still so smooth.

Yamaguchi's character on the screen is surrounded by water. All Tsukishima knows about this game is that Yamaguchi wants him to get the opposite version, so that they can trade Nokemon. He hasn't bought it, though. He hasn't bought a Nokemon game since Gold Version, which he only got because Yamaguchi wouldn't stop whining about the trade-exclusive Buddy King. 

A cutscene is explaining why the world is flooded, but Tsukishima is more interested in the quiet gasping breaths Yamaguchi lets out the harder Tsukishima digs his thumbs in. Maybe he will reward him for them. Maybe he'll buy the stupid game.

He hooks his index finger and tugs at the bottom of Yamaguchi's shirt. "Take this off."

Yamaguchi does not look at him. He does not ask questions, either. Maybe in exchange for Tsukishima not asking questions. He props up on his elbows to peel it over his head, not even bothering to fully take it off; letting it stay stretched across his arms in front of him.

His back is a sea of tanned skin, covered in little freckle islands. Tsukishima explores it with his hands, starting dangerously low on his hips. He works his way up his spine, ears trained on Yamaguchi's breathing, on the murmur of a moan that he knows he's biting back. He circles over freckles with his index finger, butterfly-light until Yamaguchi shivers.

A good back rub can make a boy _melt_. He's glad he knows that, now.

Tsukishima's favorite point is his shoulderblades. They cut from his back jagged and sharp, and Tsukishima relishes rubbing between them like it's a secret place just for him.

Yamaguchi squirms, raising his hips, forgetting that Tsukishima is practically seated on his ass.

_Oh,_ Tsukishima realizes distantly, _I'm hard._

He sees how flushed red the tips of Yamaguchi's ears are, can see the shudder of his shoulders as he breathes. The slight lift that keeps his hips off the bed even when he relaxes down. Tsukishima knows that he is too.

They do not talk about junior high. But Tsukishima remembers.

In the summer break between their second and third years of junior-high. They had a sleepover, and late, late at night they watched a horror movie in Tsukishima's bedroom. Yamaguchi had been terrified the whole time, clinging to him but insisting they keep watching. Tsukishima had thought the film was boring, but allowed it to continue. Allowed Yamaguchi to practically climb on top of him for comfort. 

They used to touch so much more casually than they do now. Tsukishima supposes that was the reason it stopped. He remembers Yamaguchi squirming on his lap each time there was a jump scare. Burying his face in his shoulder and gasping against his neck when he was scared. Wrapping his arms around him and clinging tight.

He also remembers Yamaguchi gradually becoming a lot less interested in the movie. He remembers that mouth, hot on his collarbone, hands wandering, almost idly, under his shirt at first, then his waistband. He remembers Yamaguchi's half-lidded eyes, his voice murmuring for permission to continue, "Tsukki?"

Tsukishima hadn't wanted to use words, afraid just like he is now, of anything being written in stone, but recalls burying his fingers in Yamaguchi's messy hair to pull him in for a kiss. He remembers Yamaguchi's hand circling his shaft, unfamiliar and strange but _so_ good. Overwhelmingly. He'd clenched a fistful of Yamaguchi's hair and accidentally yanked him back.

Yamaguchi had moaned.

Tsukishima is suddenly very pleased to have remembered this. 

Yamaguchi is squirming underneath him, and Tsukishima presses a hand between his shoulders to stop him from moving. He brings his other hand to grip at dark, _perpetually_ messy hair. 

The first tug is subtle. Yamaguchi's reaction is not.

He arches, his whole body tensing up for just a moment as he presses his ass back into Tsukishima unintentionally. Probably unintentionally. His voice sounds slurred, like he has almost fallen asleep and is half-way to drooling from the backrub, "mmnah?"

Tsukishima tugs again, relishing the sharp breath Yamaguchi takes in.

His breath is a fevered whisper, "Tsukki?"

Tsukishima wonders if he is only just crossing the line, or if he'd done it a while back. He wonders if hair pulling is more lewd than touching skin if that's the way it gets to the person. He wonders just how masochistic Yamaguchi is. He's always figured he must be a little bit, to stick by his side all this time. Especially after junior high.

"Oh, that's right," Tsukishima postulates, as if he only just recalling, "you liked that back then, didn't you?"

Yamaguchi goes brittle. He does not breathe or move, until Tsukishima pulls his hand from his hair. Yamaguchi lets out a needy whimper against his own will. Tsukishima's hand snakes down his back to his hips. He shifts; presses his length pointedly against him, sliding briefly in place to make sure Yamaguchi is aware of him - what he does to him. His hand curls around his front, fingers gripping at his hip bone. 

"Lift up."

Yamaguchi is nothing if not obedient. He raises his hips off the bed, and Tsukishima has to force his own breath even at the control. But more importantly, he's able to slip his hands into Yamaguchi's waistband and wrap his fingers around his length.

He runs his index fingers up his cock, testing, feeling out the bead of precum at his tip. He smears it down for lubrication before he starts the languid slide of his hand, an easy up and down with a loose grip. His hold is more fingers than palm, because he has not missed the way Yamaguchi looks at his hands, and has not forgotten the time the other boy had mumbled to him over their math homework, "your fingers are so long and pretty, Tsukki."

Yamaguchi's whole body shudders underneath him as Tsukishima leans forward. Their bodies press together through thin layers of bed-clothes, warm and shaking. Yamaguchi is squirming into his touch impatiently, trying to speed up the pace that Tsukishima forcefully keeps slow.

He presses kisses into Yamaguchi's back, and the boy goes weak in his hands, like he is dizzy. The sounds he makes are quiet but _criminally_ hot. Tsukishima wonders if he is aware, and if that's why he's choking back anything louder than a gasp. 

When he comes it is like his body giving out, whatever whining sound he was trying to make catching in his throat half-way. Most of the come hits Tsukishima's hand as he continues stroking him through the waves of the orgasm.

He feels quite a bit better, surprising even himself. Even still hard, even with come on his hands and probably the crotch of the borrowed pants that Yamaguchi is wearing. 

Not so much with the way Yamaguchi's shoulders shake. That is worrying. Tsukishima doesn't want - doesn't know what to do about that.

"I'll be right back," he hears himself saying as he pulls away. Before leaving the room he digs another pair of sweatpants from his dresser and tosses them in the general direction of the bed.

Tsukishima does not linger in the hall, quickly making his way to the bathroom to wash his hands and calm down. He stares into the mirror and for a moment worries he is worse than the man he mistook for boring, but who is clearly a predator. Then decides no, absolutely not.

Still. He should not have done this. He remembers junior high. _Obviously_ they both remember junior high. He'd remembered the nice part. The falling out had been... Not so nice. He doesn't want to think about it. He can't. 

The image of Yamaguchi's bare shoulders quivering is stuck painfully in his head.

But in the end the only option is to return to his bedroom. Everything is almost exactly as he left it. Yamaguchi is still laying on his bed on his stomach, tapping away at Nokemon. Tsukishima would think he hadn't moved if it weren't for his shirt being fixed and the different pants he is wearing. 

Tsukishima hovers in the doorway uncertainly. "So," he starts to say, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He opens his mouth to apologize, because that sounds like a rational thing to do. He doesn't like to, but if anyone he knows is worth an apology for acting out of line, it's Yamaguchi. He knows that, this time.

Yamaguchi cuts him off, looking at him as casual as ever, "I'm not upset."

He sounds too genuine for it to be a lie told just to soothe him. Tsukishima blinks. "Oh." 

His friend looks thoughtful for a moment, as though he is contemplating what has occurred and evaluating how he feels about it. "I mean it's just... Like, friends with benefits?" For as airy as he talks about it, his cheeks still light up. "I don't mind."

Tsukishima watches him like a hawk, waiting for something to give. A hint of anything behind the scenes that is different from what he's saying.

Yamaguchi just says, albeit shyly, "next time I can, um. You know. Take care of you, too. If you want." Then gives him a serene smile before returning to his game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Tadashi Yamaguchi goes on a 'date' with his 'boyfriend,' or as close as he can get to it.


	5. Elevator kisses, summer, summertime

Tadashi Yamaguchi goes on a 'date' with his 'boyfriend,' or as close as he can get to it. He sing songs, jokingly, "a _date_ ," then snickers behind his hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

It's almost a fun game to slip his thumbs casually into his hoodie pocket, then link their hands back together again as soon as they are out of sight. Shimada shares conspiratorial grins with him.

It's sort of fun to keep secrets. He's always known he likes that - making fun of friends behind their backs has always felt good. Mean, but good. It was something kept secret just for the fun of it. After all, everyone knows how much shit Tsukishima talks, whether he whispers it to Yamaguchi or says it to their faces.

Plus there's something to the idea that Tsukishima trash talks _to_ him, not _about_ him. Especially now that he actually has other friends to complain to, if he wanted. Yamaguchi has not missed the frequency of his texts from the Nekoma captain.

The outing itself is uneventful. It is so easy to chat over the racks of clothes that Yamaguchi winds up with the new swimsuit he came for, and three new outfits on top of that. Shimada pays for them before he really has time to process or argue against it.

It's nice to be spoiled, once he fights away the reflexive guilt. Yamaguchi does not have delusions of grandeur about a grocery store manager's budget, but it's certainly better than his allowance. Shimada even seems to have a decent eye for clothes, where Yamaguchi has never bothered to care. He's always figured he isn't naturally handsome, unlike Tsukishima, so there is not much point.

The bag of clothes gets tossed in the corner of the living room back at Shimada's house. Yamaguchi considers just leaving these clothes here. He wonders if he can get away with staying the night; his parents would probably just assume he's at Tsukishima's house again.

As casually as if they were married, Shimada heads to the kitchen to make dinner. Yamaguchi trails after him, and even ties the back of his apron for him. Such small things make him feel blissful, moreso when Shimada walks him through the recipe.

Dinner is delicious, and afterwards Shimada hands him a popsicle from the freezer before helping him to set up his old playstation.

Yamaguchi's words come out muffled around the popsicle, held in his mouth to keep his hands free, "this is so old."

Shimada looks guilty, and for a moment Yamaguchi thinks he has stepped on a land-mine. He needs to be more careful with what he blurts out. But Shimada says, "sorry, it must be boring when you come over."

Yamaguchi flips on the console and scoots back to Shimada's side. He takes the popsicle out of his mouth, wanting to speak clearly and sincerely. "It's fun just spending time with you." Even when he's spending time with Tsukishima, they're usually just doing their own thing in the same room as each other. "'Sides, it'll be kinda cool to play old games."

Shimada looks relieved. Yamaguchi wants Shimada to enjoy their time together - it's strange to realize that Shimada feels te same way towards him. But there is something relaxed about it. Even the worry is very low-tension.

He relaxes into Shimada's side again.

The selection of games is pretty limited. There are a couple of sports games that Shimada says his friends have given him but he's never really touched. Some arcade game compilation disks. A handful of racing games, which must be his favorite. Yamaguchi picks the least old one of the batch and prepares himself to win. After all, Shimada clearly hasn't played games in years, and he's back on a playstation one in the era of playstation four. (Not that Yamaguchi even has a playstation four yet, but still.)

Shimada kicks his ass at it, all the while mumbling to himself, "hm? I don't remember this stage at all. Um... What button was the speed boost?"

It's still fun to lose. Yamaguchi sneaks glances over at Shimada when the man is deeply distracted by the game, mouth hanging slightly open like a nerd and the screen reflecting off of his glasses.

Even when Yamaguchi starts to get the hang of the different courses and settles on his favorite car, Shimada still winds up at the finish line far, far earlier. Instead of passing it to win the game, he takes to making u-turns and accelerating straight for Yamaguchi, crashing into him at full speed and forcing him to come in last place against the NPC drivers.

The first couple times he is incredulous. By the fifth match in eighth place, his car totaled, Yamaguchi has tears in his eyes and his stomach hurts from laughing.

"Next time," he tries to say, having to pause to take deep breaths, "I'll bring the PS3 over or something I can beat you at."

"Sure," Shimada agrees, speeding straight at him at a hundred miles an hour.

"Maybe the Wii, that's easier to carry," Yamaguchi continues. He tries to swerve to the side, using the car ahead of him as a shield. Shimada passes it with a smooth curve, undeterred.

Their cars collide, flying into the air with shattered windows and sparks flying. Yamaguchi dissolves into laughter again. "Why?!"

He can feel Shimada's shoulders shaking with laughter, too much to answer him. When they finally catch their breath, Shimada leans down to kiss him. It amazes him, how easy this is. All of it. Cuddling and going out, cooking together, playing games. Everything is so simple. Turning his body towards him, sitting up straight from his slouch. Pressing their mouths together more firmly and resting his hand on Shimada's thigh. He can do all of these things shamelessly.

He has thought of - still thinks of - kissing Tsukishima, and it is nerve-wracking and painful and exciting all at once. He feels silly and shy at the mere idea.

He had felt that way with Shimada, at first. For their first days as a couple, or a not, or as a whatever-they-are, he had turned tomato-red at the slightest brush of hands.

It became second nature. The thought of getting a hard-on from making out is mortifying, but the actual event isn't that bad. Not when he can feel the way Shimada shifts under his groping palm. Not when he's far too distracted by the man's hand slipping around his hip, dangerously hot and so close to where Tsukishima had held on to him. His face flushes all over again.

Shimada's kisses his way along Yamaguchi's jaw and down to his neck. His breath hitches in anticipation before Shimada even gets there. He's already caught on that Shimada particularly likes that spot, the same way Yamaguchi likes Tsukishima's collarbone.

Shimada's fingers undo the button of his jeans with ease. It feels... Natural. Of course this is what you do in these situations. The same way it had happened in junior high, a simple unquestioned flow. But with Shimada there is no fear of horrible aftermath. Not like with Tsukishima, before. Yamaguchi 's mind is still a mess on that matter, because his fear of what happened in junior high is replaced with this strange confidence he is so unused to.

It had even gone well just the other day, with Tsukishima. He doesn't know why. He never has any idea what's going through Tsukishima's head, much as he wishes he did. He just needs to stay far, _far_ away from what had set him off in junior high.

He remembers Tsukishima's hands, kneading hard up his spine. Tsukishima's pretty fingers, wrapped around his cock and stroking him off. He shivers, pictures Shimada's hands on him. His hips rise up against his will, into the press of Shimada's palm, still over his jeans. He whimpers, internally pleading for Shimada to do more but not wanting to use his words and potentially remind Shimada that they shouldn't be doing this.

Shimada's mouth is hot on his throat, and hand is wandering closer, _so_ close, and then - he stops. He shakes his head into Yamaguchi's neck, presses a light kiss to his neck, then pulls away from him. "I should step outside for a minute."

Yamaguchi wants to be mature about this and respect Shimada's hesitance, really he does. Instead he lets out a low whine, almost too heated to be embarrassed. Almost. " _Why?_ "

There a pause, and Yamaguchi feels his shoulders tense. Maybe he should not be so needy. Maybe he has misread something about their relationship. Maybe Shimada shies away from touching him because he genuinely does not want to, not because he is uncomfortable with their age gap.

"I think it would be healthier if you went to Tsukishima-kun." Shimada's voice cracks.

"Tsukki isn't my _boyfriend_ , though!" Yamaguchi insists, resolutely keeping his grip on Shimada's thigh.

Shimada exhales and slumps against the side of the bed. "And I am?"

He wishes he had a better answer, but admits, "well, sort of."

Shimada seems to appreciate the proximity to a yes and the honesty all the same, and laughs. His hand rests on top of Yamaguchi's at his thigh, soothing. His thumb strokes over his knuckles. "I could force you into things, Tadashi."

"Not if I force you first," Yamaguchi points out, more because he is used to bickering in this way than because he means it as an argument.

Shimada flounders for a moment, unable to come up with a good retort in a timely manner.

Yamaguchi has to gather his nerve up, but he wants to be honest with Shimada, because he loves him. The clarity of this thought is slightly alarming, so he distracts himself by trying articulate everything else. "You said there's no obligations to be, er... Exclusive. So... I'll fool around with Tsukki whenever he wants, yeah."

It sounds a little bit pathetic, when he puts it that way. It is a little pathetic, when he really thinks about it.

This whole subject feels foreign. He has never been popular before in his life. Having more than one friend has been a new experience of the year, and now he can talk about fooling around with two different people as if he's juggling boys. He would never have expected this of himself in a million years.

He stares down at his knees. He wills his cheeks not to burn up, but they don't obey him. "I _want_ to do stuff, you know. It's - like I said. You're not forcing me. I'm trying to force you. And if you like me, that shouldn't be difficult."

Shimda is always so confident. Because he's an adult, probably. His insecurity must seem so childish and petty to have to deal with.

Shimada sits up straight, then leans in to tap their foreheads together. His glasses bump Yamaguchi's cheeks. "Don't think like that. You know that's not it. It's obvious that's not it."

Yamaguchi has to admit this is a fair point. When someone takes you out on a date, pays for you new clothes, and gets hard just from kissing you, it's hard to claim they don't like you. Logically, he sees those dots connect. But emotionally, he can't wrap his head around it. How can people like him when they have met better people?

He has delivered a thousand and one love letters from girls to Tsukishima, has been their messenger a hundred times and their 'inside source' on fun secrets about him. His favorite foods and colors and what music he likes. He has always hated the part of himself that felt jealous. He has always equally hated the part of himself that thinks, well of course. Of course anyone who meets the two of them would choose Tsukishima.

He huffs, his tone equally annoyed at his own insecurity and arousal. "I know. Sorry." He gives Shimada an apology kiss for having to put up with him, and for being kind and worrying. For not wanting to take advantage when Yamaguchi is doing his best to throw himself at him.

There is a peaceful moment.

Then Yamaguchi says, "can I at least blow you?"

Shimada's whole body twitches, startled. "What?" There is a long pase before he thinks to answer, "no!"

Yamaguchi's sulking is mostly an exaggerated joke, but not entirely.

Still, he is surprised when Shimada eventually says, "okay. Not... Tonight. But okay." Yamaguchi is acutely aware of the warmth of his hand, and can only manage to nod dumbly. "You _have_ to tell me if you ever want to stop. Immediately."

"Okay," he agrees, and discreetly slides his hand higher up Shimada's thigh.

Shimada is on to his ploy, judging by the low chuckle he lets out. He leans back in to Yamaguchi, his lips brushing against Yamaguchi's earlobe. His mouth is hot as always when it returns to Yamaguchi's throat. His kisses are a hungry wet trail fom his jaw to his shoulder, and Shimada's finger hooks in his collar to tug it to the side and kiss further.

Yamaguchi has to bite his lip, because even after this, he doesn't want to seem as desperate as he is. But that was all it took, and he feels his cock twitch, and Shimada's other hand is at his abdomen, fingers light on his skin. He sits up straight, edging Shimada's hands lower, _please_ lower.

Shimada obeys, his hand running down, fingers toying with the hem of Yamaguchi's boxers. He asks, voice a whisper, "alright?"

Yamaguchi nods, eyes clenched shut in nervousness and excitement all at once. He feels the thumb hook in his waistband, tugging them down enough that he feels cool air on his cock. He shudders once, then harder when Shimada's hand circles around him tentatively.

His pace is slow, at first, careful.

Yamaguchi feels electricity thrumming through his whole body. He hears himself whimper against his own will and it takes all he has to stay upright instead of sinking down lower. He feels himself hunching forward.

It's interesting to feel the differences from Tsukishima. Tsukishima had been a slow torture, making him come undone helplessly with no reprieve, as if he were selfishly enjoying touching him without regards to Yamaguchi himself.

Shimada is just careful. His movements are ginger at first, but as Yamaguchi writhes into the touch, he matches him attentively. He strokes him off faster as he gets closer, his own breath an uneven whisper in Yamaguchi's ear that only heightens him.

"Shimada-san," Yamaguchi breathes his name, trying not to let it catch in his throat. His back arches as he feels himself at his peak, and he isn't sure if it was a plea or a warning.

Shimada does not falter, just murmurs, "Good, Tadashi, good boy."

 _That_ does something. Something sudden and bright in his stomach that makes his breath catch in his throat. His mind replays the words on repeat and his hips feel like they're moving on their own to press back into Shimada's fist. His body feels weak and he wraps his arms loosely around Shimada's shoulders to keep upright.

He wants to ask him to say it again, but also _really_ doesn't.

Yamaguchi comes, hearing his own moan crack into silence halfway through. He already knew that a lot of the things he loves about Shimada are very similar to parental traits. He shouldn't be surprised by how much that got to him. He still wonders if he should be concerned, but feels far too exhausted to linger on the worry.

He slouches forward, still holding Shimada for support. He feels the quickened rise-and-fall of his chest, and how hot his face is. He can hear Shimada's own uneven breathing. He should probably do something for him. Fooling around with two guys is one thing, being the only one to get off each time is another.

He feels tired and unsure of how to proceed, but with Shimada it is not embarrassing. He feels guilty, but too content to let it really bother him. Not with butterfly kisses pressed into his shoulders.

"Relax," Shimada soothes, and Yamaguchi feels his eyes flutter open, unaware he had ever closed them. He cannot muster the energy to joke that the permission is not needed. His first time staying the night at Shimada's house is entirely on accident, but he wakes up near two in the morning in Shimada's bed, the man's back pressed against his and the even sound of his breathing filling the room. Yamaguchi rolls over to curl up against him before falling back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Kei Tsukishima is staring at his new swimsuit, suspicion all over his face.


	6. Smooth like a rolling crystal ball

Kei Tsukishima is staring at his new swimsuit, suspicion all over his face. Yamaguchi is sure of it. He shifts, uncomfortable under this kind of gaze. He knows it is because the swimsuit is new, and Tsukishima probably noticed the whole outfit before they had changed being new, too. The gaze is accusing. 

It certainly is not hungry and lingering with precision on his hip bones as they disappear into his trunks. 

Right? Right.

The area Nishinoya has directed them all to was an hour and a half by car, then a short walk alongside the road down to a shorter tumble downhill. Ukai and Takeda had driven vans stuffed full of teenage boys, all squishing together uncomfortably so as not to impose on the only two girls. Tsukishima had caught Yamaguchi's eye and stage-whispered, "Like clown cars," before handing over his left-over soggy fries from the drive-through.

They'd climbed out of the cars in a bundle just like Tsukishima had said, all stretching and moaning about the drive. (Truth be told, Yamaguchi had liked it. The sun came through the windows toasty, and the breeze kept him cool. The radio played songs he liked. Roadtrips are not so bad. He wonders if he can get away with leaning on Tsukishima on the way home in contented exhaustion, maybe watch him play games on his phone.) 

They'd unloaded floaties and inner tubes and bags of towels and sunscreen, then followed Nishinoya as he led the way. The walkway from the parking lot was narrow, making them all walk single-file, looking down the slope of the hill to a river just below.

There was an equally narrow set of steps that Nishinoya bounded down without a second's hesitation. Hinata and Kageyama turned it into a race as usual, trying to follow the boy's obviously-practiced footwork as he lept from step to step onto the rocks and wood alongside the river.

Large rocks cut out a resting area overlooking the water, a strong current running downhill beside them, only inches over smooth stone. At the bottom of the stream there was a sharp drop-off into deeper, open waters, like a small pool, all surrounded by greenery.

It felt like a secluded water park just for them, the air cool with the shade of the trees all around it even as the sun kept the rocks burning underfoot. They spread out their things on the rocks and half-listened to Nishinoya's instructions - "If you ride the rockslides it'll slam you into that rockwall up there, but don't try to push off of it or block it, just let yourself bounce off." A side-note to an unconvinced Asahi, "It's not as scary as it seems. And if you use the innertubes you'll be extra fine." Then he continued on, pointing out the areas where the current wouldn't be strong enough to carry them and all the other little secrets.

Yamaguchi had listened attentively, mostly just to be polite. He peeled off his shirt and slid his jeans off, eager to shed as much clothing as possible in the summer heat. And now, in his swimsuit, he feels Tsukishima's gaze all over him. 

He opens his mouth to ask if something is the matter, if it looks weird or maybe doesn't suit him, but gets cut off by Tanaka and Nishinoya shrieking as Kiyoko pulls a light summer dress over her head to reveal an aggressively modest swimsuit. Yamaguchi is certain this is less because she is chaste and more an act of self preservation, current company considered. 

Yachi's swimsuit shows more skin, but cute polka-dotted frills hide her curves. Yamaguchi still discreetly appreciates the curve of her hips as she bounces after Kiyoko. 

The girls settle in on the higher rocks to sunbathe and watch the boys rough-house in the water, though Yachi seems torn on participating and staring in horror. She settles on sticking by Kiyoko's side - Yamaguchi doesn't blame her. Tanaka looks like he might faint when they start helping each other with their sunscreen, and he is revived only by his own distress at not being the first one in the water. 

"Watch!" Nishinoya commands, stepping into the shallow water. He promptly slips and falls on his ass, the current rushing him down the slope like a waterslide. Just like he said, the rocks glide him against a wall but he bounces right off of it, letting out a holler as he goes over the edge and into the pool. He waves up at everyone, then swims to the edge to climb back up to the top.

Hinata throws himself into the water next, giggling and shrieking the whole slide down. He's back up hill, still panting from the climb, before Kageyama has moved an inch closer to the water. The taller boy stares apprehensively at the rock wall and the tiny-teammate shaped dark splashes against it. Yamaguchi understands where he's coming from - Nishinoya is already bragging about an inevitable bruise on his butt-cheek to a fretting Asahi.

Yamaguchi takes a seat where the current is weak, just enjoying the water flowing over his toes. He isn't surprised that Tsukishima would sit down beside him before playing in the water with the other children.

"Go, go!" Hinata enthuses, nudging Kageyama, who whirls to snap at him but gets cut off by an innertube getting shoved against his cheek.

Yamaguchi cups his hands around his mouth and cheers for them as they go down the rockslides, Hinata still screaming his excitement from Kageyama's lap like a hellishly loud comfort blanket for the other boy. They bounce off the wall, legs curled tight in the innertube, and it spins them the rest of the way down until capsizing at the pool. They both come up star-struck.

"Ah yes," Tsukishima observes, "rivalry. You know. When you cling to each other's wet bodies for comfort."

Yamaguchi elbows him in the ribs, snickering. It's relaxing to hear the blond return the laughter. The sun is hot on his back, but his feet under moving water and the breeze blowing mist on his skin keeps him cool.

After his first trip down, Kageyama is brave enough to go by himself, soon forgoing the innertube all-together. Asahi never makes it that far, only managing to go when literally pushed into an inflatable raft and kicked down the slide. Yamaguchi is in stitches at the look on his face, pure fear and betrayal as Nishinoya cheers him off.

Sawamura takes more interest in relaxing in the shade beside Ukai and Takeda, and Sugawara slides into the waters once or twice before tying down an inflated raft near the adults and laying down in it with a book. Yamaguchi isn't sure why; the gentle rocking of his raft seems to put Sugawara right to sleep, and the book has to be snatched away by Sawamura so it doesn't fall into the water pooling in the bottom of the raft.

Yamaguchi watches Sawamura brush wet hair from Sugawara's face, then climb into the raft beside him and bury himself in the book in his stead. He feels vaguely like he has intruded on something intimate, and quickly averts his attention. He watches Kiyoko and Yachi wave down to Ennoshita as his innertube slides down below them. Tanaka seems heart-set on sliding down standing upright but can only make it halfway before toppling into the water. Kageyama and Hinata scurry back up hill to go down the slide again and again.

It looks painful to slide down on rocks and bounce into a wall like Nishinoya does, insisting that "floaties are for scaredy-cats and Asahi-san," as if the two are seperate categories. But despite the redness of Nishinoya's legs and the increasing exhaustion in Hinata's movements - it still looks fun.

Tsukishima must read it on his face, because he presses his fingers into his back, right between his shoulderblades. "Gonna go?"

Yamaguchi blanches. "It looks scary. What about you? Dontcha wanna get wet while we're here?"

Tsukishima shrugs, but still stands up. He sets his glasses down by their towels and bags, then grabs one of the discarded innertubes by the handle with one hand. He holds the other hand out to Yamaguchi.

"Ah yes," Yamaguchi immitates him, already taking his hand and standing up, "friendship. When you fool around one day and demand to cuddle in an innertube the next, right after calling someone else out for it."

Tsukishima gives him an odd look as he pulls thier hands apart.

He should not have said that. Yamaguchi swallows thickly. They have not really talked about the fooling around thing. It was not left uncertain with Yamaguchi's prompt volunteering to be friends with benefits, but that had been his own panic. 

Yamaguchi has not forgotten junior high, and he is afraid, so afraid of repeating those months of misery. He'll say whatever he needs to just to avoid the risk.

"Er." Yamaguchi says, trying to dispel Tsukishima's increasingly peeved expression, "I mean. Let's go. Ignore that. Don't listen to me."

"Shut up, Yamaguchi." Tsukishima sounds exhasperated.

The normalcy is relaxing, and he chirps back, "sorry, Tsukki!"

Tsukishima sits down in the innertube first, spreading his legs wide for Yamaguchi to take a seat between them. Yamaguchi tries to settle in without touching him much - not after his slip up just now - but Tsukishima grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him towards him, back to chest. Their skin is sticky from the mist of sitting by moving water.

Asahi, the self-designated helper, just to look too busy to be forced down the slide again himself, gives them a gentle nudge into the stronger current. Their innertube picks up a spin as it rushes down the slope, cold water splashing up onto them and the air blowing it cooler. The wind is fast on his face, and Yamaguchi yells excitedly, curling himself into the tube as small as he can as they approach the rockwall. He looks up and sees the girls laughing down at them, pretty and waving. He thinks of mermaids.

Tsukishima's arms wrap around him tight; he hears his stupid, dorky laugh, his _real_ laugh, muffled in his hair. They are racing so much faster than it looks when the others slide down, but time feels slowed as he snuggles back into Tsukishima for the last stretch of their ride, the sun already working it's heat over the damp spots they've been splashed over.

Their innertube flips over the second they go over the ledge, and they both come to the surface sputtering and still laughing. Nishinoya is still at the bottom of the hill from his most recent trip down and holds out his hand to take the innertube for them. He carries it over his back as he trecks back up hill, practically disappearing into it. 

"Turtle-noya-senpai," Tsukishima observes, dripping on the rocks by the edge of the water. 

Yamaguchi pulls himself out of the water, feeling off balance and wondering how Tsukishima makes it look so easy to step across uneven, slippery stones while barefoot. Ahead of them Nishinoya has to hoist himself up a step on his hands and knees. As he disappears past the bushed and out of sight, Yamaguchi says, "Snail-noya-senpai." After a moment, "no, yours was better."

"Mm," Tsukishima agrees.

Yamaguchi looks at him. This area is shaded by the trees looming over them, and small patches of light flicker across Tsukishima's chest. The gaps in the leaves overhead play golden tricks with the droplets of water in his hair. He needs to stop thinking so self-indulgently, he tells himself. But he knows that he is starry-eyed, still. Tsukishima is meeting his gaze, expression unreadable.

"We should do it again," Yamaguchi blurts out, just to be saying something. He looks uphill, unable to see the others through the bushes. The light is radiant on the rocks up ahead, such a stark difference to the shadows, here. He can hear the others laughing and shouting. 

"I think so too, sometimes," Tsukishima says, at length. Yamaguchi squints at him, because he does not think they are talking about the same thing. He apparently misses his chance at a reply, because after a moment, Tsukishima begins the walk back towards the sunlight.

Yamaguchi follows him. They balance over wet stones, then climb up a high ledge back into the sunbathed slabs of rock. Yamaguchi can already see the sunburn-pink on Tsukishima's shoulders, and scolds himself for not forcing sunscreen on him when they first arrived. Shimada had reminded him so adamantly, too.

There is another level of rocks to pull themselves over, then through the bushes and past the girls to the resting area of the others.

Yamaguchi hates himself for saying anything at all. He hates himself before he even opens his mouth. The words come out anyway, in a panicked rush. "I just really don't want anything bad to happen again."

Tsukishima does not turn around, but he stops in front of the ledge. "Like in junior high," he clarifies, sounding terse. Like a stranger trying not to start a fight when they are clearly offended.

Yamaguchi knows they are not facing each other, but looks at the ground all the same. "Right."

There is a long silence. He wishes he had not said anything at all.

"It's changed too much for that to happen," Tsukishima says airily, the words and idea comforting, but his tone somehow far from it. He sounds weary. Yamaguchi can only assume that's some kind of joke.

They had sat too close, bodies too hormonal. Yamaguchi had been too in love, too sleepy-brained. He had touched Tsukishima with hesitance and eagerness all at once, adoring every moment of of it and fawning over his every sound and breath.

He'd known it was creepy to love him so strongly. To adore every douchebag word out of his mouth and to relish the light pain of his hair being yanked. He'd known it was strange to want Tsukishima to push him around, to make him do more and more for him and to him.

He had thought it was alright - because he had asked permission. And Tsukishima had nodded, fingers still gripping his hair tight, but expression nervous and cheeks flushed. 

Yamaguchi has always loved the sides of Tsukishima that no one else can see. He loves that he is kind of an asshole, even when others are genuinely upset by it. He loves his dorky giggle, and his dumb dinosaur books, and the way he denies his sweet tooth. He loves that he is bossy and rude and infuriatingly good at anything he puts even minimal effort into. 

He'd wanted to make him come undone. He had stroked him off carefully, attentively reading every sign he could and drinking up Tsukishima's body-language eagerly. He was hyper aware of every twitch of his cock in his hands, noting that he stiffened at pulling his hair before Yamaguchi even made a sound. A stupid, embarrassing sound. But a sound that made Tsukishima's dick swell against his palm each time.

Their first kiss was sloppy and wet and if it weren't for the heat of the moment, probably gross. But it was that kind of moment, and his mouth was so soft and warm, and Tsukishima had whimpered, _Tsukishima_ had keened for his lips.

He'd bitten down on Yamaguchi's neck when he came, his whole body shuddering as Yamaguchi gave slowing strokes to work him through the orgasm, even as he cringed with the sting on his throat.

Yamaguchi made the mistake of murmuring to him, hardly thinking twice about it, "love you, Tsukki."

And then they had not spoken for three months. After years of having a best friend, Yamaguchi had gone back to being completely, painfully, _suddenly_ alone. Said so simply it doesn't sound so bad, but he remembers his anxiety had spiraled like crazy until he was prescribed medication for it. He isn't stupid enough to blame his anxiety disorders on Tsukishima, but regardless of blame: he has never been as miserable as he was for those months.

"That's good though," Yamaguchi says, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "That it's changed." 

Tsukishima still will not turn to face him. He does not reply, but looks up towards the sun. Yamaguchi has to bite back the warning for his eyesight. Now is not the time. 

Tsukishima does not love him in that way. He may be attracted to him, which Yamaguchi doesn't entirely understand on a very basic level of insecurity, but he is not in love with him. This has not changed.

Yamaguchi still loves Tsukishima, in every way possible. This has not changed either, but he is willing to pretend that it has. He can understand what a comfort that must be to Tsukishima. No longer feeling creeped on by his best friend. In fact, even though he doesn't approve of his relationship with Shimada, it must be something of a relief for Yamaguchi to be with someone else.

"If you're happy," Tsukishima says, quiet and skeptical. 

Yamaguchi blinks. He still gets the feeling they are not on the same wavelength. "What?"

Tsukishima finally turns to look at him, his cheeks showing that same start of a sunburn stain. "Come here," he says, his voice loud again, and the tone is the familiar commands that Yamaguchi knows exactly what to do with. 

When he obeys, Tsukishima takes hold of his his chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilts his head up, and kisses him. Yamaguchi feels heat radiating off of him, their skin already completely dry from the summer sun. But his lips are still wet and slick against his. 

Yamaguchi kisses him back, stepping forward to feel the warmth between their sun-baked chests. Tsukishima pulls him ever-closer, backing up as he does until he is flushed against the stone wall behind him. It's interesting, Yamaguchi thinks, the way Tsukishima guides him into taking the lead. Tsukishima makes him line their bodies up together, makes him be the one to press them together. Tsukishima's fingers are feather-light at his hips, but they lead him, telling him to keep going. He makes Yamaguchi push him against the rocks with needy kisses.

Yamaguchi loses track of where the sun-heat begins and where it's just his own want. Tsukishima's tongue runs across his bottom lip and he has to pull back to remember to breath. Tsukishima is flushed from cheeks to ears, and his fingers at Yamaguchi's hips tug him back by the waistband.

The next time they part, it is only barely. Tsukishima's lips are still brushing against Yamaguchi's. Yamaguchi's eyes rest shut to keep other sensations from dulling the feeling.

The movement of Tsukishima's lips is interesting and enticing. The words he is saying, not so much. "I want you to break up with Shimada."

Yamaguchi's eyes snap open and he jerks back. "Tsukki, what?"

Tsukishima's finger is still in his waistband, but he looks at him severely. "Your 'boyfriend,' or whatever he is to you. He's like 30. Break up with him."

"26," Yamaguchi corrects, affronted. He tries to step away, but Tsukishima does not let go.

"He's a creep."

"Tsukki," Yamaguchi says, eyebrows furrowing. Tsukishima looks away, like a child sulking over being told no, and Yamaguchi has to repeat, more worried than angry, " _Tsukki._ What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Tsukishima snaps, still avoiding his gaze. " _I'm_ not the one hooking up with someone twice my age. What's wrong with _you_?"

"We're not - hooking up!" Yamaguchi hears his own voice, shriller than he intended. He cringes. There is not a pause in the white-noise murmurs behind the bushes; it doesn't seem anyone else heard him. He knows how it looks, really he does, but he wants Tsukishima to trust his judgement. He quiets his voice, but can't stop from sounding angry and scared, because he doesn't want to fight with Tsukishima. "I'm not being forced into anything creepy."

When Tsukishima tests, cautiously, "No?" he looks sincere, if not hard to take seriously with his lips still swollen and begging for more makeouts. Or maybe that's just Yamaguchi's bias. He tears his eyes away. 

"No," Yamaguchi affirms. He is in love with Shimada, who spoils and pampers him. Just like he is in love, all over again, with Tsukishima who worries for him because they are friends. Who pulls him closer and kisses him again. He thinks he is hopeless. He is doomed to circle Tsukishima for the rest of his life, taking whatever he can get. He wonders if Shimada will want to break up with him when he realizes how in love with Tsukishima he is. 

Tsukishima's eyelids are heavy, and Yamaguchi is distracted by his long eyelashes. Tsukishima is ridiculously attractive. Yamaguchi has always thought adults were more attractive than any geeky teenagers his own age - because he knows they are all lanky and baby faced and stupid, still. Except Tsukishima. 

He tries to be honest with him. "I was the one who started things with him."

Tsukishima leans in again. He asks, "then what are you doing with me?" but doesn't allow Yamaguchi a chance to answer before pressing their lips back together.

It was only a matter of time before they got caught, making out against the rocks. Hinata's shriek of excitement turns into a hysterical 'caught-my-teammates-kissing' scream. Tsukishima raises his index finger in front of his lips, though only Yamaguchi hears the "shh." There is recognition of the command on Hinata's face moments before he falls, still screaming, into the pool.

They don't wait for him to join them. They scurry back up the rocks and rejoin the rest of the team. When Hinata comes back he gives them a long, interested look, but says nothing of it. Moments later he is shrieking his excitement over a particularly pretty rock he has found, as if nothing happened at all. 

The day is a summer heat haze. They alternate between drying off on the rocks and sliding down the rockslides, and Yamaguchi burns every second of the day into his mind as perfect.

Until he drowns. 

It's stupid, really. He has been up and down the rockslides a dozen times in an hour. He and Tsukishima are staying in the pool at the bottom of the slide, having stupid contests like who can stand on a slippery rock the longest, who can hold their breath longest. Who can hoard the most innertubes from the others before one of them notices and demands them back.

It's not even that deep, but his foot gets caught in an opening of the rocks that border the swimming hole and his whole body tenses up. He flinches backwards, forgetting that he is already so close to the edge of the pool and knocks his head against something solid. He thinks to himself, "welp," and something vague about how he is a fucking idiot. But water is in his mouth and then his lungs. It feels like it's in his brain, weighing down his limbs until he can't move. 

He does not thrash like in movies, although it is nothing peaceful, either. It _hurts._ His chest screams for air and he can do nothing but reply _sorry buddy. Here's some more water, though._

Tadashi Yamaguchi drowns, and Kiyoko is the one to pull him out of the water. He vaguely recalls the panic in her eyes and her shimmering hair clinging to her face. Mostly he recalls his earlier thought, that she is a mermaid with ink-black hair that spreads until all he sees is black.

Takeda calls the ambulance, and the wait for them to arrive is too long. There is a chaotic stillness to the group as everyone stands around, bodies rigid and on edge, eyes never leaving Yamaguchi. Kiyoko sits beside him, one hand on his wrist and the other at his neck to feel out his pulse. Even when Takeda offers to switch, shakily mentioning the medical courses he's taken, Kiyoko does not move.

Takeda rides with the Emergency Response Team, striding forward when they ask for a guardian with the strange confidence he only takes on when it's needed. 

The whole team's eyes land on Tsukishima, his own expressionless gaze burning through everything he stares at. They seem surprised that he does not demand to ride with him. He does not say anything at all.

He wants to. He _wants_ to push their advisor out of the way and climb into the ambulance without even asking permission, because what the hell does Takeda even know about Yamaguchi? He is their club advisor, not their guardian; just because he's with them doesn't make him the authority on Yamaguchi.

Ukai drives one car, and Sawamura drives the other, no one in the state of mind to remind him that he does not, technically, have his license yet. All the boys are quiet in the back of Ukai's car. Tsukishima can feel their eyes on him. 

He is not the type for violence. He has always like to hurt people with words. Today he wants to punch them all in the face. They are mostly smart enough not to say anything. Except for Hinata, the boy who always sees more than he should.

His voice is a worried murmur, "You're shaking."

Tsukishima does not have the words to express how unneccessary it was to point that out. He looks at Hinata, sidelong, as the boy presses his fingertips against his arm. As if to comfort him. He can feel the stickiness of their still-wet skin. Small pebbles and dirt clinging between the two of them. The floor of Takeda's car is a damp mess. He is fairly sure they left a couple of towels and toys back at the swimming hole. He does not glare. Just looks at Hinata's fingers for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the cars in front of them.

Sugawara's phone goes off from inside one of their bags. He has to rummage through it, the sound awkwardly loud in the silence of their drive. When he flips it open he nearly drops it, then after a moment runs a hand down his face, slowly breathing out.

"He's fine," Sugawara says. "I mean. Not great, obviously, but he's breathing."

Tsukishima is not sure if he is more bothered that it is not directed specifically to him, or that he wanted it to be. Sugawara redeems himself either way by turning in his seat to hand his phone to Tsukishima so he can read it himself.

Hinata was right. His hands are shaking. 

It is difficult to make sense of the words on the screen, like he's reading through a fog. Or without his glasses. He _is_ reading without his glasses. When he realizes, he reaches up, dabbing the bridge of his nose where they should rest.

"Oh," Tsukishima says, speaking for the first time since Yamaguchi slipped underwater. 

He sees the blurry boys around him all suddenly bustle into motion, as if maybe Tsukishima slipped his glasses into their shorts pockets or rolled them up in their towels by mistake. Idiots. 

He squints to read the text message. 

_Breathing again. Still taking him to the hospital. Called parents, left message._

Takeda's message is all business. That, or he was too emotional to get more detailed.

When Hinata is sure he's read it, eyes trained on him like he's delicate, he suddenly switches personas, eerily fast. He snatches the phone and reads the text excitedly, bouncing with relief. Shoulders relax throughout the car all over again, so quickly that if Tsukishima didn't know better, he would think it was calculated.

"Sounds like he's fine," Ukai says, voice gruff and unsure. He glances at Tsukishima in the rearview mirror, and speaks like he isn't sure quite how to handle him right now. "You wanna turn around to get your glasses? Left them on one of the rocks, I think. Faster to do it now than later."

Tsukishima looks at the man's reflection, incredulous. After a moment he realizes they are probably writing off his squinting because he doesn't have his glasses, and so he shakes his head. He can go back for them another time. He can get new glasses. 

The drive is too long. He had thought the drive there was too long, squished in beside Yamaguchi with cramped legs. His body feels hollow with a desperate want just to have that back.

They are ridiculous at the hospital. A dozen wet boys in swimtrunks and t-shirts standing around dazed and dopy, trying not to be in the way without seperating an inch from one another. Yachi is nearly crying into Shimizu's chest, the two of them the only ones who thought to put clothes on over their swimsuits, even though they are damp and clinging uncomfortably.

Yamaguchi's parents are not here. Tsukishima does not read deeply into this. Takeda only has their home number and both are at work until late in the evening. They just don't know. That concept scares him, a little bit. That something like this could happen and there are people who would care so much but have no idea.

What really fucks him up is that Shimada is already there waiting.

Shimada is slouching deeply in a waiting-room chair, hair mussed like he's run a hand through it a thousand times. He is wearing his work apron still, and his clothes look rumpled as if he ran half the way here just to beat Tsukishima to the hospital. Tsukishima knows this is a stupid thought to have. But he has it. 

Tsukishima stalks over to him, surprising even himself. "Why." It is not a question.

Shimada answers anyway, concern all over his face and in his voice, "Tsukishima-kun...! Your teacher messaged me. I heard he's doing better." Shimada stands up, at first Tsukishima thinks, to adjust his clothes and hair. But instead he touches Tsukishima's shoulder. His hand warm and firm and kind. Tsukishima trusts him, but loathes himself for it. "Are you doing alright?" 

He does not want to be reassured. He did not want to be asked that. He does not want to be comforted by him.

Tsukishima swats the man's hand away at his wrist. "No," he says, like he is scolding a dog for getting too friendly.

Shimada seems to take it as an answer to his question, though, and his eyes soften behind his glasses. "It sounds like his heart didn't stop for very long," Shimada begins to assure him, and without control over it, Tsukishima feels his face contorting. There is a brief silence, and then Shimada ventures, "No one told you that happened."

Tsukishima does not like this one bit, but he needs to hear what happened, even if he hears it from Shimada. He stares expectantly, until he explains.

"He stopped breathing for a couple of minutes. His heart stopped for a little. But it sounds like he was resuscitated in the ambulance, so it must not have been long."

Tsukishima stares at him long and hard and does not know what to do now that he has this information. His fingers flex at his sides.

Takeda rescues him from the situation, coming out the swinging hallway doors. He looks a mess, but has a weak smile on his face. That's a good sign. His eyes lock on to Tsukishima and he waves the others over. While they huddle up, he looks around for Yamaguchi's parents. 

Tsukishima opens his mouth to explain their absence, but Shimada beats him to the punch. "Tadashi's parents work late. I'll give them a call in a minute, okay?"

Takeda nods, and only then does Tsukishima notice how exhausted he looks. He's not sure how he missed it on the first once-over. Of course it would be stressful. He is responsible for them. Take a group of kids out for a day of fun. Almost watch one die. 

Tsukishima feels his breathing go uneven at the thought. He does not like the words that are so precise. 

"They're keeping him for a couple of days," Takeda tells everyone. "Near drownings can have a lot of symptoms even after he seems better, so it's for observation, and obviously he needs to rest. Right now he's doing alright."

The boys murmur among each other, relieved cheering combined with fretting over the stay. Kageyama and Hinata are already bickering over what they should bring as a gift when they visit tomorrow, somehow silently deciding they will come together without saying it aloud lest they have to pretend they're not inseperable. Sugawara has already settled and is murmuring plans to Sawamura. Asahi still looks on the verge of fainting, and though Nishinoya is conversing with Tanaka, his hand is firmly entwined with Asahi's to comfort him. 

Takeda is quiet for a long moment, watching them. Long enough that their own conversations die out. But he does not seem to have anything more to say. In the too-quiet, dimly lit hospital waiting room, they sort out the order to take everyone home in hushed voices. 

Tsukishima does not want to leave, but lets Takeda guide him back to his car by the shoudler.

He catches sight of Shimada through the window of the car as they pull away, the man already hanging up the phone from calling Yamaguchi's parents. He watches him shove the phone in his pocket before letting a long, full-body sigh. His whole body shows his worry, etched into every inch of him and the shadows of the building all around him.

Tsukishima feels much the same, and redirects his gaze the streetlights overhead.

It is hard to hate someone like Shimada. Then again, it is hard to feel much of anything when everything that has happened in the day, the good and the bad, play on repeat in his mind. He can't sleep when he gets home, and keeps his headphones on for hours just willing himself to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Tadashi Yamaguchi almost cries when he sees Tsukishima, but it takes him a moment in his dazed distraction.


	7. Used to be one of the rotten ones

Tadashi Yamaguchi almost cries when he sees Tsukishima, but it takes him a moment in his dazed distraction. 

When Tsukishima first enters the hospital room, the other boy is staring out the window, looking tremendously bored as he twiddles his thumbs. There is a half-eaten, unappealing lunch, sitting on a tray beside the bed. His head slowly leans to the side like he is watching something fall, then he turns and repeats. Tsukishima wonders if he has been sleeping well.

He always envisions hospitals as sterile white and the smell of medicine, but the walls in this room are a deep maroon, and the smell of the forest out back seeps in through the window. 

His parents have been here; he has his favorite blanket over his lap and they brought his favorite book. The one he has read 100 times, and now complains he has memorized and can never read again. Well, Tsukishima can't blame them for not knowing. 

Yamaguchi always seems like he is bragging when he tells others about Tsukishima's quirks. Like he is somehow proud that he knows what music he likes or how he takes his coffee. As if these details are profoundly interesting, and Yamaguchi is nothing noteworthy himself.

But Tsukishima knows him the same way. 

Kageyama and Hinata appear to have decided on a teddybear, laying on its back and holding an obnoxious 'get well soon' card that is pointedly weighed shut. It looks thick enough to be a singing-card, which explains the weight. It looks like a bear caught in a cave-in. Still, Tsukishima is surprised to feel gratitude over annoyance. He is happy to see flowers and cards and teddybears, all wasteful trinkets that will surely be thrown out. 

Tsukishima slides the door shut behind him, purposefully loud, and Yamaguchi whips his head up. Tsukishima does not miss how long it takes for Yamaguchi's eyes to lose that dizzy look to them and actually focus on him.

Their eyes meet, and Yamaguchi's expression shifts impressively. He looks like he cannot decide if he is more relieved or mortified to see Tsukishima, and the blond sees his eyes go glassy. He sees the thick movement of hsi throat and the tightness of his jaw.

"Brought you some junk," Tsukishima says, trying to sound casual. 

Yamaguchi doesn't cry. He just says, "Mm," with a crooked, uncomfortable smile, then redirects his gaze to his lap.

Tsukishima ventures closer, watching Yamaguchi's shoulders quake with each of his steps. When he gets close enough, he sets down his care package for Yamaguchi, beside the abandoned tray of food. 

Yamaguchi's eyes scan over everything; his DS and its charger, a handful of his favorite games, the sequel to one of the shamefully awful light novels he likes that he's been storing at Tsukishima's house 'to read later,' but keeps forgetting. His cell phone charger. 

His lips part in wonder. It takes such small things to make him happy, Tsukishima sometimes thinks, and worries that this is the only reason Yamaguchi could like someone like him. But he thinks the same of himself. In a brief moment of lingering panic he thinks almost hysterically that he is _just as simple_ , that he doesn't need anything more than seeing Yamaguchi alive and well. Fleeting promises to be better and kinder flit through his mind rapidly but he isn't stupid enough to think they are real. He shakes off the thoughts. He knows he is more selfish than that. He knows that he wants so much more of Yamaguchi.

His heart races uncomfortably when he remembers Kiyoko staring up at them, wide-eyed. Their wet hair was so dark in the shadows, and her chest heaved with panic and adrenaline, and Yamaguchi's chest hardly moved at all. Even seeing Yamaguchi now does not fully dispel the nerves. He had been right there. He had been right beside him and the one to pull him out from the water had still been Kiyoko, from halfway across the swimming hole.

When he is done setting his things down, he comes closer to the bedside. Yamaguchi looks up at him, eyes nervous like he thinks he might get scolded. He is upset to have worried anyone, and Tsukishima knows him, and knows his anxieties. He knows that Yamaguchi is equally worried that no one was worried at all.

Tsukishima hugs him. He wraps his arms around him, with Yamaguchi on the raised bed and Tsukishima standing, so that the freckled boy's face is against his stomach. After a quiet sound of surprise, a sound that is dangerously close to the hiccup before a sob, Yamaguchi nuzzles into him. Tsukishima does his best not to pull back just from the surprise of it, instead letting his hands rest between Yamaguchi's shoulderblades. He feels Yamaguchi's arms wrap around his waist in return. It's comforting that Yamaguchi's grip is not weak.

"Nishinoya-senpai almost cried," Yamaguchi tells him, and lets out a forced laugh. "He felt like it was his fault since he brought us there. He was down for a long time but I think he cheered up. He showed me all his bruises, too. And Hinata and Kageyama were both purple all up their legs. Kageyama practically had to drag Hinata around, they were both so sore. Tanaka-senpai said it's from the climb back up more than the rockslide."

Tsukishima lets him ramble, entirely disinterested, but does not pull away the entire time. This is probably a weird position to hold conversation in, however one-sided it may be. 

He thinks he should have been the first to visit. He probably would have been if he didn't spend so much time pacing in his room and double-triple checking what he wanted to bring him. 

"I'm all sore too. I forget when I'm sitting still, but then whenever I move my whole body hurts. I dunno, though, aside from the obvious, it was a really nice trip... I hope we can go back next year, but I'm also worried that everyone will be too nervous about all this to want to. So maybe it'll just have to be you and me...? Or I can promise everyone to stay out of the water? That'd suck, though, and I don't want to wear floaties, because that's dumb..." 

When Yamaguchi finally trails off, it is with a strange sort of pause. Tsukishima realizes he was waiting to be told to shut up. Even without it happening he still apologizes like reflex, finally pulling back to look up at him. "Sorry, Tsukki," he says, and Tsukishima notices the way his gaze keeps wandering, the way he seems privately amused by everything he sees, even when there is not really anything there at all. The explanation comes without him asking: "I'm on hella vicodin."

Tsukishima can't bring himself to laugh when he can feel his pulse slamming in his wrists. He has to open his mouth a couple of times before his voice cooperates. His words are out of place. He sounds pathetic. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Yamaguchi laughs and it still doesn't sound real. But his arms around him shift, heavy but insistent on staying. "The same stuff you do now, I think. You're fine." 

Tsukishima wonders if he would have said it out loud without the vicodin. "Yamaguchi," He says, struggling to keep his voice level, and Yamaguchi snickers as if it is reflex for him to follow up anything Tsukishima says that way. "That summer sucked for me too. You know that, right?"

Yamaguchi nods slowly, but looks confused enough that Tsukishima suspects he doesn't really understand. He reaches behind his back to take Yamaguchi's wrists in his hand as he takes a seat, a chair already pulled up by the bed. He lets Yamaguchi shift in his loose grip until they are holding hands, fingers entwined.

Yamaguchi is staring at their hands, dazed and wondrous.

Tsukishima tries to speak softly, knowing his voice comes out terse when he prompts, "right?"

Yamaguchi opens his mouth, then closes it. His eyebrows furrow, but Tsukishima can't tell if it's in thought or in disbelief. He seems to decide against whatever he wanted to say, which makes Tsukishima suspect it was going to be, "no."

Even with the vicodin, Yamaguchi does not point out how incomparable their summers were. But even with the vicodin, he does not quite accept them as equal.

Tsukishima being alone and angry was different from Yamaguchi having anxiety attacks. Tsukishima isolating himself because he was grumpy and pretentious was different from isolating himself out of fear and panic. Tsukishima had hated everything and everyone for months, but he had not worried himself sick over it. Yamaguchi had been nauseous the whole time.

He remembers when summer vacation finally ended, he had expected them to simply be strangers in school. He had thought seeing Yamaguchi in person instead of pointedly ignoring him might help him expel him from his head. Maybe then he would not think so constantly about the fact that Yamaguchi had given up on texting him after the first week of being shunned.

It hadn't helped. Instead he had just stared at his constantly empty desk - kept concern off his face when the boy dismissed himself to the nurse's multiple times a week. When he toyed with his hair compulsively and picked at the skin on his face during class, and when his eyes darted around a loud room in overwhelmed panic or annoyance. There were days when he was unresponsive, practically a zombie, then days where he had sudden mood swings barely hidden under the surface.

He remembers it getting worse when he started his medication - Yamaguchi skipping days at a time from school, worried whispers from teachers in his wake. Murmurs from classmates that he looked like he'd been crying, that he was always so tense lately. All of these things and then tenfold when he went through prescription after prescription after withdrawal after prescription.

He had thought - he needed Yamaguchi. There was no way to keep Yamaguchi out of his sight and out of his mind. And Yamaguchi needed him, too. He must. Tsukishima knew from the start that Yamaguchi's anxiety wasn't on him, but to be a source of comfort was still worth something. Maybe with an apology, a real one for once. He could take it back. Reply to him proper. And then he could be some kind of support for whatever - all of what was happening to him was. 

He didn't think it was too late until the medication started _working_. Until Yamaguchi was able to sit through classes and make small-talk with school-mates like normal. Until his grades leveled out and his phobias unwound themselves. Until Tsukishima caught his eye one day, and Yamaguchi smiled, nodded, and returned his attention to the teacher like nothing.

Yamaguchi is always growing without him. 

"Has Shimada visited you, yet?" Tsukishima finds himself asking, against his better judgment. He tries not to look jealous.

"Yes," Yamaguchi answers with caution. When it becomes apparent Tsukishima isn't going to say anything bad about it, he brightens. "I'll be staying with him for a week or two. Doctors don't want me home alone in case any worrying symptoms come up, and Shimada-san can be home more than my parents could. Not like they can just change their work schedule, and mom has an important meeting that's taking her out of town for a couple days."

"You could have stayed with me," Tsukishima blurts out before he realizes it. Tsukishima is not the type to blurt things out, and blinks at himself right with Yamaguchi. 

Yamaguchi gets over it first, which Tsukishima is yet again blaming on the vicodin. Yamaguchi offers, "I can sometimes?"

Tsukishima squeezes his hands. "Okay." 

He wishes Yamaguchi were still in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Tadashi Yamaguchi has never really worried about introducing his parents to his 'significant other,' whoever that may be.


	8. Lazy summer goddess

Tadashi Yamaguchi has never really worried about introducing his parents to his 'significant other,' whoever that may be. In his mind, there has always been the chance that it could be a girl, but even if not, there is no fear of 'coming out.' Not with the way his mother smiles at him when he talks about Tsukishima, or the looks his father exchanges with her. 

But this isn't a secret because Shimada is a boy - it's a secret because Shimada is a _man_ almost a decade his senior. 

His parents invite Shimada over for dinner on their weekend to thank him for always helping Yamaguchi out - for taking him in with their schedules. Yamaguchi feels like he might vomit at any moment. He doesn't take his vicodin because it makes him loopy, and he doesn't want to slip up and say anything suspicious.

His head hurts, and his stomach feels too weak to eat well, less from nerves and more from the fatigue of his recovery. Yamaguchi does not want to do anything uncharacteristic or suspicious, but he finds himself staring at Shimada more than usual. 

The difference in age has obviously been a _thing_ , in a lot of ways. 

But seeing him next to his parents makes him notice that he is really not so old at all. Yamaguchi remembers being ten and thinking fifteen was so grown-up. Then twenty had sounded grown up, so recently. But he has seen Shimada snicker over jokes more immature than Nishinoya and Tanaka's locker-room conversations. He has heard him talk about high school as if it were yesterday, and seen the surprise on his face when he counts back to realize how many years it has been. He wonders how long until thirty sounds young to him. He wonders how long age will even be relevant to them, and considers the years between his mother's and father's ages.

Dinner is awful, but only him. If he weren't so stressed out, it would be nice to see Shimada getting along with his family. But in the end the pleasant mood they all share is because they don't know the truth, and it makes knots in his stomach. He doesn't like lying to his parents, and until now has not given it much thought. There is a difference in between not discussing a subject that never comes up and sitting next to his secret.

He manages to stop himself from blurting out anything stupid, by way of barely saying a word all night. He feels guilty for the concern in his parents' eyes and knows he has been quiet after the accident, but at least it gives a cover-story and no one asks him if he's alright.

Instead they simply drop him off at Shimada's house with a hundred different phone numbers and embarrassing kisses pressed against his cheek. He is offended by Shimada's amusement and spends half the evening sulking.

Yamaguchi hasn't stayed the night at Shimada's house very often. He is there constantly, but doesn't want to drag Tsukishima into lies to cover for him. Still, it is easy to settle in. 

In the evenings Shimada cooks for him. Sometimes he teaches Yamaguchi the recipes, and sometimes delegates easy things like chopping vegetables or making rice to him. They lounge together, play games, watch movies. Yamaguchi spends a lot of time napping, and Shimada is attentive in reminding him to take the painkillers he was prescribed, always a moment before Yamaguchi is about to start complaining that his body aches.

It's fun trying to come up with something to do each night - playing cards, or trading off watching each others favorite movies, even if he falls asleep half way through them. Some nights they don't come up with anything in particular to do. Shimada reads and Yamaguchi plays video games, and they relax in an easy silence. 

"Too bad you work during the day," Yamaguchi says in the evening, after a long day spent largely in quiet. The room is dimly lit by only the bed-side lamp, and Shimada lays on his stomach, a book open on the pillows in front of him. Yamaguchi is on top of him, laying down in the same position, lower on the man's body. He is not so sneaky, nudging the man's shirt up with his wrists as he plays on his DS.

"Feeling cooped up?" Shimada asks. "I don't mind if you hang out here, but you're free to leave when I'm at work. As long as you bring your painkillers in case you need them. And keep your cell phone on you."

"I feel fine," Yamaguchi lies. He feels fine _usually_ , but even days later, there are still times his limbs feel strained and his chest feels weak. He sometimes has trouble concentrating, though the doctors had mentioned that was a normal symptom from the concussion that would fade over time. 

The medicine makes him feel sleepy and dumb and he wants to stop taking it as soon as possible. When his mind lingers on it he knows he will panic that he won't be well enough to play volleyball, but he doesn't let himself think about it, now. Today he hasn't needed any painkillers, and he feels content to relax and use his boyfriend as a mattress. 

They have been sharing the bed at night, curled together comfortably. Yamaguchi knows he has always been a snuggler. It was stuffed animals when he was young, then pillows. Now Shimada. He likes how easy it is to line their bodies up together, and wonders if all couples feel like they fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Relationships are strange. He is sure a day will come when they will fight, actually fight, and he is sure even Shimada's patience is not endless. He's curious, but in no rush to get there.

"You're welcome to invite Tsukishima-kun over, if you like." Shimada says.

Yamaguchi considers, his finger hovering over the touch screen of his DS. "That might be bad."

Shimada chuckles, his whole body moving in a wave underneath him. "He's jealous."

He frowns, because he wishes that were true. "No he's not." He knows that Tsukishima has never wanted him in quite that way, and buries his face in Shimada's back. "He's just looking out for me." His cheeks are hot. He wonders if Shimada can feel it on his skin. "Protecting me from bullies again, or at least he thinks so." 

"I get where he's coming from," Shimada says, but this time does not linger on the matter. They have talked about it far too much and Yamaguchi knows it will probably be the reason they really do fight, some day.

"I've told him it's not like that."

"Says the one trying to strip me in my bed."

The jig is up. Even caught, Yamaguchi does not stop the slow inching of his hands up Shimada's back. "It's a compulsion, I can't help it."

He almost misses Shimada's low whisper, "dangerous game, Tadashi," before he returns to his book.

It is interesting to feel confident when he has no idea what he is doing. Yamaguchi is not sure how to flirt or how to tease. But he is sure that Shimada will correct him if he does something he shouldn't. Stop him if he needs to. With this simple faith in Shimada, he is not as anxious as he expects.

It is strange not to over-think things. A welcome change from before he was medicated. Or even now, in his day-to-day interactions with Tsukishima.

Yamaguchi finishes a couple more fights in his game, then flops down beside the other man, shoving his DS into the windowsill. Shimada follows his lead and sets aside his book on the nightstand, flipping off the light. The room goes dark, the street light from outside bathing them blue. 

Shimada turns so they are facing each other, and his glasses shift against the pillow uncomfortably. He props up to take them off, but Yamaguchi finds himself reaching out and touching his wrist to stop him. 

There is a barely-repressed tug at Shimada's lips. 

"Uh," is really all Yamaguchi can manage. The truth is, he likes the small bump of the glasses when they kiss. He likes watching light catch then when cars pass by in the night, and he likes the ever-so-slight way they move when he crinkles his nose in laughter.

"We'll come back to that," Shimada says like a promise, and laughs before pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Yamaguchi slides up close and presses up against him, hand already returning to peel Shimada's shirt off. Once that's over his head, he tugs at Shimada's pajama pants, easily slipping them just past his hips. He runs his hand over his hip-bones, tracing the contour. He likes feeling his body; it's interesting to explore it while his eyes are closed, mouth otherwise occupied.

This feels risque - something about knowing his parents allow him here with no idea. Shimada's breath heats his lips when they pull apart, and Yamaguchi props himself up before Shimada can pull him back in. His hand on Shimada's hips slides down to his thigh, and he asks, "can I?"

"Are you feeling alright?" Shimada checks, and Yamaguchi nods, bracing himself for rejection. Instead he gets: "Then... Yeah. Okay."

Yamaguchi has touched Shimada before, but only a couple of times, at the heights of his own pleasure. When he is too heated to think straight and wants more, wants to get Shimada off too. When Shimada is too distracted to redirect his attention. It's unbalanced, like this. He wants that to change.

Yamaguchi pushes Shimada onto his back, helping him out of his pants and briefs before lowering himself down to kiss his thighs. When he glances up he gets an eye-full of Shimada's cock, hard in his face. 

"Um, so I've never," Yamaguchi says, trailing off. Not because he is afraid of anything, but just to warn Shimada. He doesn't want him to get his hopes up for a painfully inexperienced blowjob.

Shimada doesn't laugh, but it's in his voice when he assures him, "you're fine."

He likes the feel of Shimada's dick in his hands, hot and hard and vaguely familiar from the few times he had touched him before. He shivers at those memories, his spine tingling with muscle-memory of the orgasms. He strokes him for a moment, testing, before wrapping his lips around the head of his cock.

Shimada's breath hitches, which Yamaguchi quite likes. Encouraged, he runs his tongue over the head, feeling out his slit with interest. He tastes the precum in his mouth, feels him twitch harder.

He has to pull back after an embarrassingly brief moment to tuck his hair behind his ear, but quickly returns to the task. He presses his lips in a wet kiss at the shaft before taking him into his mouth again. He likes the feeling of control, tracing over the head with his tongue and hearing the way Shimada's breath hitches. 

Shimada reaches down, fingers running through his hair and gently brushing it out of the way. He rubs gently as Yamaguchi bobs his head. His own body feels heavy with want, hungry for more of Shimada's sound and heat, and at the gentle massage of fingers into his scalp he moans.

His saliva runs down the shaft from his open mouth. He feels lewd, but too heated to care; it just makes it easier to stroke the base of his cock. 

Yamaguchi feels Shimada's other hand traveling down his body as best he can, managing a loose grip around Yamaguchi's own erection, stroking him with his palm in the same up-and-down rhythm with the nodding of Yamaguchi's head. Yamaguchi can't concentrate. He has to pull his mouth from Shimada's cock and rest his head on the man's pelvis, hands still jerking him off. He feels dizzied, suckling lightly at his shaft like it's all he can handle, his body overwhelmed and distracted.

Shimada doesn't seem to mind that he's paused; Yamaguchi can still hear his labored breathing.

If getting Yamaguchi off keeps Shimada hard enough to twitching against his cheek, Yamaguchi figures he may as well embrace it. Not that he's coherent enough to put much thought into it. He arches into the touch, shifting his hips closer to Shimada for more.

"Shimada-sa-ahhn," Yamaguchi whimpers, the name fading into a moan. He presses back into Shimada's hand with desperation.

Shimada's voice is husky, and he answers like reflex, "Tadashi?"

"Please," Yamaguchi hears himself ask, but isn't sure what for. He is distantly annoyed at himself for trying to do something for Shimada and having it turn back to himself again, but he can feel his energy peaking, feel fire in his veins as he gets close.

"Shh, shh," Shimada soothes him, but his fist around his cock slows even as Yamaguchi whines against it. His hand leaves Yamaguchi's hair to rub his lower back, then his thighs; his hand is firm, working its way to his ass before pulling back. Yamaguchi feels his legs quiver with disappointment, not sure exactly what he was expecting and if he really wanted it or not. Then a spit-slick finger is teasing at his entrance.

Yamaguchi is not certain how he feels about this, except for _need_. It feels right on the border of being good. Scary, but good. He feels himself drooling down his chin in his daze and has to force himself back into sucking Shimada's cock just to keep his mind remotely coherent. 

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Shimada whispers.

Yamaguchi mumbles something that means he understands, his mouth moving against the shaft at his lips. There is a brief pause - the sound of a bottle popping open - and when Shimada's finger presses back against him it is cold and wet and presses into him almost easily. 

It feels good. It feels _so_ fucking good, but it's as though it's only the surface, and it isn't enough, and there is a slight way that it hurts that is only helped when he moves. He is not sure if the movement makes it hurt more or less, but it doesn't matter because it is exactly what he needs.

Yamaguchi presses his ass back into Shimada's fingers, pleading, and hopes that moaning with a mouthful of cock is a good way to communicate _don't stop_. 

He realizes that Shimada is barely stroking him off at all, anymore. He only returns his attention to the gentle tugs when he is slipping another finger inside Yamaguchi, trying to distract him from any discomfort. He can understand why. If he weren't a borderline masochist he's not sure he'd like it as much.

Shimada obeys without being asked. His finger slides inside of Yamaguchi up to the knuckle, then back out. His thrusts are gentle, even with Yamaguchi pressing back into it, silently begging for more, somehow, _more_ of that. It feels like an itch that can't be scratched. 

"Good?" Shimada checks, and Yamaguchi can feel a second finger starting to press into him. He feels it stretching him from the inside, hitting something hot and sudden. 

Yamaguchi pulls his head back, running his tongue down the length of Shimada's cock, and nods with the throbbing erection sticky against his cheek. "Mmn, 's good," Yamaguchi manages, his words slurring. He is acutely aware of how loud his panting has become when his mouth isn't otherwise occupied. 

Shimada glides his fingers inside him more rhthmically, the quick pace bringing Yamaguchi so, so borderline close to coming. His hips shake back into the man's hand with desparation, ass in the air. He can hear himself letting out shameful mewling sounds, only occassionally remembering to lick at Shimada's flushed cock in his distraction. He is too far gone to be embarassed by how he must look, and that realization does powerful things to him.

"Please," Yamaguchi begs again, because last time it got good results. "I can't." He isn't sure what he can't. Shimada falters for all of one second before Yamaguchi presses, frantic, back to his touch, keening. He feels tears in his eyes and when he arches his back there is a spot Shimada rubs past that makes his brain turn to fireworks. 

"I've got you, Tadashi," Shimada assures him, passing over it again, "you're so good."

Yamaguchi lets out a weak "mm," of affirmation, because he loves hearing that - but he feels torturously close to coming. It sends sparks through his whole body and he wants, _desperately wants_. "Can I have you?"

He expects it to be a much bigger ordeal than it is, half expects everything to come to a screeching halt to make way for an argument, but Shimada's self control seems to have gone out the window with Yamaguchi's shame. He is sitting up with his hands still on Yamaguchi, but frozen for just a second. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes wide behind his fogged glasses. "Yeah," he says, "alright."

Yamaguchi only realizes how cold the night air is when Shimada draws back from him. His whole body is burning but he shivers, now that he is naked and stilled in the cold. He squirms, the feeling of being empty suddenly foreign to him.

"On your knees, that'll be easiest for your first time," Shimada commands, and that gentle quality to his voice splinters. Yamaguchi doesn't mind. He likes being bossed around. It's less embarrassing, when he's doing exactly as he's been told. It's like all responsibility is taken off his shoulders.

The bed creaks as they shift about until Shimada is behind him, murmuring some irrelevent shit about telling him if it hurts and letting him know if he needs to stop. Yamaguchi stares at the pillow in his face and feels his body quake in the cold. This position is awkward, or it should be. Strangely, it isn't. He just feels impatient.

Taking Shimada's fingers again is easy as he slicks up Yamaguchi's inside. 

And then it's his cock, still wet with lube. His length presses into him in pace with Shimada's long, shaky breath. It feels strange to be stretched open, but he does his best to relax, remembering the feeling of fingers dragging across his insides. Shimada is murmuring under his breath, "good boy, good, that's good..."

Yamaguchi feels his own cock stir at the praise and thinks distantly that he is going to have to tell Shimada about that. Then again, he already talks that way so easily, maybe he can get away without admitting to getting off on it. Maybe Shimada already knows.

Shimada's palm is on his back, gently guiding him to lean back onto his dick until he is buried to the hilt. It hurts more than fingers. Not painfully, but not without discomfort. Yamaguchi buries his face in the pillow, wriggling in place, trying to adjust. 

It doesn't hurt when he moves. Shimada seems to be paused, trying to give him time to get used to it, but he feels like the worst is over and the stillness is just an annoyance. Yamaguchi assures him, "'m okay. Move?"

Shimada's thrusts are slow, to the sound of his own shuddering breath, as if it is all he can do not to come right away. Yamaguchi relishes the sound and lets himself wallow in the feeling of fingers gripping his hips. He lets Shimada pull him back onto his cock, lets his hands guide him to slide nearly off and back again. It is less Shimada thrusting and more moving Yamaguchi. 

This slow pace feels like it's short-circuiting his brain, and he's not sure how much longer he can hold himself up on his shaking knees at this rate. Shimada leans over him, burying deep. His chest is flush to Yamaguchi's back for a moment, grinding into him without pulling out. Yamaguchi chokes. " _Ah_ , oh god - that's," he manages, unable to finish the thought, his body pleading for more of _that_ , the friction deep inside him.

"Here," Shimada whispers in his ear, "you can move."

Yamaguchi shudders. These instructions are vague, and hard to follow, and all he wants is Shimada to pull him tight against him and fill him up. Still, sliding his body forward and back is not rocket science. Doing what makes him feel good is instinctual, and he can roll his hips back and ride him from underneath.

He is able to control everything. It almost feels like using Shimada as a play-thing with how much control he has, with how selfishly he gets to get himself off. But he doesn't miss the way Shimada sometimes thrusts into him helplessly, or the way he is still breathing heavy. The way he holds Yamaguchi tight when he is all the way inside him, and grunts quiet in his ear.

Yamaguchi sees stars behind his eyes in a slow-motion build up. He feels the tingle of his whole body as he fucks Shimada at his own pace, rhythmic. He can hear himself mumbling into the pillow and Shimada answering back. Calling him a good boy, telling him how tight he is, how good he feels, making sure that he feels good too.

Shimada's hands curl around his front, one of them groping hungrily at his thighs, the other circling around his cock. With each thrust back into Shimada, he feels the slide of the man's fist around his own erection.

He doesn't get a chance to warn Shimada that he's close. His orgasm takes over before he understands and before he can stop it. He feels himself tighten around Shimada's cock as he slips over the edge. Shimada is deep in him, still kissing his shoulders, whispering to him as he rides out the orgasm, his slow pace barely faltering.

"Y-you can, um," Yamaguchi tells him, once he's caught his breath for a moment, and wriggles his hips meaningfully. He feels like he's fallen a thousand miles to land back on earth, suddenly grounded again in reality.

Shimada lets out an "mm," and his body is hot as he picks up moving again. The feeling is overwhelming right off an orgasm-high, and Yamaguchi is startled by the lightning vibrations through his weak, shaking body. He struggles to hold himself up, hears himself _sob_ into his arms in front of him, and wonders if he could come a second time or if he'd pass out first. He'd thought his weakened limbs felt numb, but he was wrong. His whole body feels hyper-sensitive.

The pace Shimada takes to make himself come is different from before, more desperate, and Yamaguchi is not going to let him give up control next time. But he wants _this_ , he wants Shimada's shuddering body holding him down.

Shimada pulls out before he comes, and it hits hot and sudden on Yamaguchi's legs.

He lets himself finally collapse down onto the bed, immediately regretting his decision as he feels his own come smear on his stomach. He is still feeling the after-shocks of it. Reality is strange. It is strange to be naked, and to have come on him, and to not be a virgin, and to still be himself all at the same time.

Shimada is still out of breath, but he laughs. It is soothingly normal to hear him say, "nope. You need to wash up and I need to change the bedding."

"Right," Yamaguchi agrees. He weighs the pros and cons of sleeping like this and dealing with it in the morning. He doubts he could get away with it, so instead he points out, "you should bathe too. You're sweaty."

Shimada grumbles, "yeah, well," and the bed jostles Yamaguchi as the man stands up. "Shower time?"

"Yeah," Yamaguchi says, but does not move an inch. Shimada waits. 

When he still does not move, Shimada laughs. "Come on."

"I'm dead," Yamaguchi informs him. If he were not tired beyond reason he would have thought twice about a joke like this when he is still recovering from almost dying. 

Shimada pauses for only a moment, then raises his eyebrows. "I'm going to jail either way."

Finally pulling himself up, Yamaguchi considers the quip. He is startled Shimada was willing to joke about it. "Nice."

He helps Shimada change the sheets, legs feeling shaky the whole time. In the shower, Shimada helps wash him off, the feeling of his fingers rubbing shampoo in his hair strangely intimate. Ridiculous, Yamaguchi thinks, considering they just had sex.

It is tempting to scream from rooftops that he isn't a virgin anymore. It is less tempting to get his boyfriend arrested, so he contains himself. But there is still the urge to tell _someone_. 

The only person he could tell is Tsukishima. 

_Absolutely not_ , he tells himself, already spinning his brain in circles trying to figure out how to bring it up. He is still wording pretend-conversations internally when he dozes off in the bathtub, and the transition from bathroom to bedroom is blurry. It feels a lot like being carried. 

He wakes up briefly in the early morning, still exhausted for how late they stayed up. Shimada is bustling around the house, half getting dressed, half eating breakfast, and half watching the weather on tv. All the stacking tasks leave him mumbling, "wait, what," at the screen with a mouthful of toast and his pants still unbuttoned.

"Shimada-san," Yamaguchi complains, the room too bright for him. His voice is cracked, still desperate for more sleep. When the man turns to look at him, Yamaguchi mumbles, "pants." Then as an after-thought, "have a good day at work," before curling back into a blanket burrito and clenching his eyes tight in hopes of falling back asleep.

It doesn't work, but Shimada leans over to give him a kiss on his head. "Thanks," he says, and then easily, "love you."

Yamaguchi's eyes flutter open in time to catch the expression on Shimada's face, startled by his own words and cheeks turning pink. This is the first time he has actually said it. Especially with the non-relationship they are in. Yamaguchi tries to say it just as casually, knowing it comes out shy and strange. "Love you too."

Shimada looks so pleased, for a moment, that it is almost childish. Yamaguchi's heart swells.

The moment is nice, but fleeting; Shimada realizes the time, ruffles Yamaguchi's hair once more, then heads out. Yamaguchi calls after him, "can I invite Tsukki over?"

He gets a distant confirmation before the sound of the front door closing.

Yamaguchi lays in bed for a moment, and feels his heart dancing up a storm in his chest. Shimada likes him, Shimada is dating him. Shimada loves him, and Shimada slept with him. He is not a virgin anymore, and it felt _good_ , and he wants to talk about it, and also hide it like his own secret, and he wants to do it again, and - and Shimada left the goddamn lights on.

He groans and drags himself out of bed to turn them off before throwing himself back into the blankets for another couple hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Kei Tsukishima sounds absolutely scandalized that Yamaguchi is inviting him to Shimada's house, but he still shows up precisely twenty minutes early.


	9. I heard Ramona sing

Kei Tsukishima sounds absolutely scandalized that Yamaguchi is inviting him to Shimada's house, but he still shows up precisely twenty minutes early. His eyes narrow when Yamaguchi answers the door, still wearing Shimada's kitchen apron over his bed clothes, his hair tied back sloppily. 

Tsukishima's eyes rake up and down him. "Were you doing chores?" He asks, venomous. 

"You're early," Yamaguchi says, because he doesn't want to say yes. Less because he is embarrassed and more because he doesn't want to deal with Tsukishima getting irritated about it. 

He lets Tsukishima in, then bustles to the kitchen to toss down the apron, vowing to finish doing the dishes before Shimada gets home. Shimada taught him to cook another dish the night before, but they'd had a lazy evening - before, well, other things - and they hadn't cleaned up the kitchen. Being domestic makes him feel useful, and even though Shimada always says he doesn't need to do anything, he always thanks him when he helps out.

Tsukishima is tense, still staring at him with narrowed eyes.

Yamaguchi does not ask him what's wrong, like he normally would, and there is a new, vindictive enjoyment in watching Tsukishima's expression falter. He is used to Yamaguchi always prompting him to complain his heart out. 

Today Yamaguchi silently declines to allow it as he leads the way to Shimada's bedroom. It would be more socially acceptable for them to spend time in the living room, but the TV is all hooked up to game consoles in the bedroom. 

Tsukishima quirks an eyebrow at their surroundings, but does not comment on it. He just tilts his head back, like he needs to go out of his way to look down his nose at Yamaguchi. 

Yamaguchi doesn't dignify him with defending it. Doing chores with his boyfriend, who he is temporarily living with, is not creepy. No matter what Tsukishima thinks. To distract him, he suggests, "want to play PS1? I'll race you."

Tsukishima allows this. Yamaguchi lays on his stomach on Shimada's bed, arms dangling off the edge beside Tsukishima, who stays seated on the floor. He is able to beat him for all of two rounds before Tsukishima gets the hang of the game and wipes the floor with him.

Yamaguchi has never minded losing to Tsukishima. There aren't many games he can beat him in, even when he plays them constantly and Tsukishima only ever plays them as a favor to keep him entertained. Tsukishima is clever and observant and picks up on patterns and cues that Yamaguchi is always missing. 

He has a fond memory of the year they were both obsessed with the same terrible old RPG they'd found at a garage sale. They'd hunted down another copy so they could play it without having to trade back and forth, and Tsukishima had beaten the game first. Weeks later Yamaguchi had come to him for help with a puzzle in the final dungeon. Yamaguchi had toyed with it for hours, even using an online guide, only for Tsukishima to remark, "I forget this puzzle," before finishing it in ten minutes.

He is an annoyingly fast learner, but Yamaguchi always enjoys seeing him excel. He can lose to him for hours on end before getting bored, enjoying Tsukishima's success with as much glee as if it were his own. Sometimes they do not even play games together, sometimes Yamaguchi just watches Tsukishima play alone.

Today he drives his car straight into Tsukishima's, slamming him out of bounds until they're both facing the wrong direction.

He can't see Tsukishima's face from the angle, but snickers at his mischief all the same. He can still appreciate the nape of his neck and the sharp curve of his jawline. He _guesses_ he can understand why Shimada always wants to kiss his neck, though personally he is a bigger fan of collarbones. 

"Were you always evil?" Tsukishima eventually asks, when the game times them both out for a last-place tie, hardly a mile from the starting point. _WRONG WAY_ blinks over their cars in bright red.

Yamaguchi says, "definitely," before pressing a quick kiss to the back of Tsukishima's neck. 

Tsukishima startles, his shoulders jumping at the sudden touch. He does not turn his head to question him. Yamaguchi does not wait - he simply pulls back to sit up on the bed and give Tsukishima some space.

"I think you've been corrupted," Tsukishima says lightly.

It was a joke. Yamaguchi knows it was a joke. And he usually so aggressively on Tsukishima's side, no matter the cost. No matter who he is insulting and even when he's wrong.

This time he groans, exasperated. "I _told_ you it's not like _that_."

Tsukishima sets down his controller, letting himself idle out as the race starts. He turns to look up at Yamaguchi and quirks an eyebrow, disbelief all over his face. 

Yamaguchi does the same. He pulls himself upright, and frowns. "He hasn't done anything to me," he says, and tells himself to shut his goddamn mouth, but still blurts out "that I didn't ask him to."

Tsukishima's expression goes dangerously blank as he climbs onto the bed in front of Yamaguchi to stare at him closely. "Oh."

Yamaguchi keeps his lips pursed to stop himself from launching into defensive rambling. He does not dig his own grave deeper. 

Tsukishima stares at him, like he is waiting for it, looking increasingly irritated as Yamaguchi stays silent. Yamaguchi has always known Tsukishima isn't as annoyed with him as he seems from the outside, but at the same time, changing his own behavior this way has been interesting. Seeing Tsukishima flounder when Yamaguchi doesn't follow his usual patterns.

He takes pity on poor Tsukishima, who clearly wants elaboration but is not used to having to ask for it. 

"Um, we didn't do much until really recently."

"While you're injured," Tsukishima clarifies. "And on 'hella vicodin.'"

Yamaguchi bites the inside of his cheek and considers his words carefully. "I didn't take any yesterday?"

"Yesterday."

Yamaguchi finally feels his cheeks heating up, catching up with the conversation they are having. He wonders if it is worth it to try to try and hide in his hands. "Last night."

Tsukishima is suddenly too close to him, eyes staring straight into his as the bed creaks under his movement. "What did you let him do?"

Yamaguchi leans back as much as he can against the wall, suddenly uncomfortable. He had thought of wanting to tell someone. Not like this. His hands feel clammy and his gaze seeks out an escape, but Tsukishima isn't backing off to give him one. "I - are you asking for details?"

"Kind of," Tsukishima snaps, sounding unsure and annoyed by it.

Yamaguchi flinches. This is close enough to a yes that he can't make himself avoid it. It would be easy, if he were not Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were not Tsukishima. But they are. 

With how close Tsukishima has come to pin him, Yamaguchi only has to lean his head forward to hide his red face in Tsukishima's shoulder. He takes a deep breath. Tries not to have a panic attack.

"It was just sex, Tsukki."

Tsukishima allows him to hide, but sounds entirely unconvinced. "Mm-hmm."

"I was just gonna... You know?"

"No," Tsukishima tells him gruffly, "I don't know."

"Try an' give him a blowjob?"

"Hm." Yamaguchi isn't sure what to make of the neutral sounding reactions, but he knows he is supposed to keep talking. It's mortifying, and he is still working on composing himself enough to continue on when Tsukishima asks, "'Try.' First time, then?"

Answering questions is easier. It's clearer what he has to do and say. He nods and admits, "yeah."

"How was it?" Tsukishima's voice is flat with disinterested, but with his face against his shoulder, Yamaguchi feels the slight, curious shift of his body. He isn't sure if it's genuine interest or pushing him to talk as punishment. Maybe both. Maybe he is asking questions to make it easier for Yamaguchi to answer.

He opens and closes his hands, fisted around clumps of blanket. His fingers are cramping up, but he feels himself start to loosen up. No matter Tsukishima's intent, answering specific questions is calming. "Kind of fun. Really satisfying, but my jaw got tired and my hair got in the way."

Tsukishima's seriousness falters for just a moment as he snickers. Yamaguchi feels himself relax just a fragment more, and Tsukishima's fingers cup the back of his head, tangling in his hair. "It's getting a bit long."

As if the comment were a command: "I'll cut it soon."

Tsukishima is twirling his hair around his fingers, and shrugs to say he doesn't care either way. But he still sounds a pitch more confident when he asks, "then what?"

Breathe in. Breathe out. It gets easier. "Um, then he was touching me. Which was really... Distracting. I couldn't concentrate very good on sucking him off with that."

"Ah." Tsukishima sounds vaguely pained.

"And um... Then I asked if we could do it? So... We did." His ears feel like they are on fire, but at least his heart isn't drumming so hard in his chest.

Tsukishima's fingers are massaging his scalp again. For as gentle as his touch is, his words are firm. Just how Yamaguchi likes. "Tell me."

The memory is a bit of a heated blur, and a shiver runs up his spine at the primal memory of sensation. He can hear Tsukishima's heart beating fast. "First it was just his fingers? Um, I think I was still blowing him when he started. I just remember pushing back into it."

"Did you like it?"

"I guess so." Yamaguchi says, then pauses, realizing how close that sounds to a no. "I wasn't sure if I would, because like... Just because I like guys doesn't mean I'd like, er. That. Kind of thing. So it felt really overwhelming and... Just weird at first. But never bad. I wouldn't have asked him to keep going if I didn't want to."

His body is hyper aware of Tsukishima's scent, and the heat of their bodies together. His memory is vivid and vague at once. Pushing back against Shimada as he stayed still to let him, writhing for more and being given so much control but knowing it was _given_ and was not really his own. The wet sound of being pushed into.

He wishes he didn't feel short of breath. He tries to keep himself even. "I just remember that I wanted more of it, so I guess that must have been good? And when it - err... When it wasn't just his fingers anymore. It was the same thing, it was just really... Needy. Felt like I couldn't think straight."

"Well," Tsukishima begins to point out, and Yamaguchi swats his arm for the bad joke. 

They curve into each other, both snickering like idiots for a moment in their own small world. This is how it has always been. It is so strange to have this world exist, and to also have the world he creates with Shimada. 

When it subsides, they are still for just a moment until Tsukishima's fingers grip harder in his hair, and Yamaguchi feels himself shiver involuntarily. There are a lot of things about his sexuality that concern him. The age difference thing. Liking being bossed around and being nurtured, both to such extremes. But probably the thing that concerns him the most is that the pain feels so nice. Tsukishima pulling his hair is on par with the low way Shimada whispers to him before he comes. 

Tsukishima tugs his head back, and kisses him. He is pushy, pressing his mouth onto Yamaguchi's without room for question. When there is finally time to ask, it's Tsukishima who speaks first, voice low. "Had you done it to yourself before?"

"Yes," Yamaguchi admits, cheeks burning. He has to gather his courage to look Tsukishima in the eye. He's a bit surprised to see he's just as red-faced as he is. "Have you?"

He shakes his head.

Yamaguchi considers this admission. Considers the color in Tsukishima's cheeks and the rise and fall of his chest. "Want to?"

Minutes later finds Tsukishima's clothes on the floor. He lays on his back on Shimada's bed, looking uncomfortable. But he does not take back his answer in the silence, even as Yamaguchi gapes at him like an idiot. 

Even if he's squirming and avoiding meeting Yamaguchi's eyes, he is still Tsukishima. He is still gorgeous. His skin is pale and smooth, so much smoother than Yamaguchi's. He has barely-there freckles on his hip. Yamaguchi thinks they are cute, unlike his own dark marks. They look dusted on by the sunlight. It feels a little odd to be doing this in such a well-lit room.

"Stop staring," Tsukishima demands, aware of it despite not even looking in his direction.

Yamaguchi flinches into action, rummaging through the small shelf in the night-stand. "Sorry Tsukki." He wishes he could be as soothing as Shimada always is for him, but isn't sure what he could say that would make it less embarassing to be in Tsukishima's position. He tries for breaking the silence, "we have lube, somewhere..."

Tsukishima repeats "we," like he wants Yamaguchi to correct himself and say something else.

Yamaguchi considers that to Tsukishima it must be strange how much he has settled here. It's as if he lives here all the time. It's a second home to him, where he helps make dinner and cleans the kitchen. Sees his boyfriend off to work, calls Shimada's things 'theirs.' 

He'll admit their relationship has its oddities. But the way that they are at home is not one of them, and he is not going to apologize for this. This has not come about from either being clingy but rather from neither panicking or worrying about keeping distance.

Tsukishima shifts in place, though Yamaguchi cannot tell if it's from being naked and cold or in irritation that Yamaguchi did not apologize.

He tries to comfort him in a different way, remembering the things Shimada says that always make him feel better. "Tell me if you don't like it," he says, gently. Tsukishima's eyes briefly meet his. "It's not like you're guaranteed to like it just because you're..."

Something. He realizes he has no idea what Tsukishima's sexuality is. It is not as if they ever sat down to discuss Yamaguchi being bisexual, either.

"Gay," Tsukishima answers, like it is nothing. Then betrays his nervousness, rushing to say "Yeah, I get it. Hurry up."

Yamaguchi huffs playfully. "You need to relax, or you won't enjoy it. I'm gonna take my time."

Tsukishima just rolls his eyes before looking away again. 

Yamaguchi figures now is as good a time as any to start, and sets down the lube where he'll remember it. He reaches down, running his palms up Tsukishima's thighs. Unneccessary, but he wants to touch him. His legs are muscular, but his thighs still feel soft when he squeezes at them. Tsukishima does not call him weird for this. He is oddly compliant, quiet save for his shallowed breathing.

His cock twitches to attention, flushed red. This time Yamaguchi remembers to tuck his hair back, the ponytail long-since rendered useless, before he bends down to wrap his lips around him. Yamaguchi still feels stray hairs falling immediately, but at least they aren't in his mouth.

Tsukishima's breath hitches beautifully as he shudders. It's interesting how different he is from Shimada. For as much as Yamaguchi loves them both, they are different in every way possible. Even the way they feel in his mouth. This time Yamaguchi doesn't lose his focus so quickly; in a well-lit room, it is somehow easier to concentrate on Tsukishima's breathing. 

He bobs his head, sucking gently as he does. He keeps his hands down, massaging and sliding to his inner thighs. He feels the muscles in Tsukishima's legs tense nervously as his hands go closer, so he stops. Instead he focuses on the blowjob until he relaxes again. 

Yamaguchi lets his jaw go slack so his tongue can slide up Tsukishima's length. His own body is heating up more than he expected from this, but Tsukishima's quiet sounds are all he can hear. His panting and the way his breathing goes uneven. As soon as the blond has unwound, Yamaguchi starts rubbing at his inner thighs again.

He pulls back to get the lube, pouring some on his fingers. Tsukishima's panting seems amplified in the brief pause. It's almost too lewd for him to handle, using one hand to spread Tsukishima's legs wider. His eyes drink in the sight of Tsukishima's chest heaving in anticipation.

He forgets to move for a long, beautiful moment. Until Tsukishima has enough composure to finally look at him and raise an eyebrow.

He immediately turns to face away again, but it is easy for Yamaguchi to slide his finger inside him. He seems to be doing a good job of relaxing. The lubrication helps, of course, and Yamaguchi's memory of what it was like. Where it hurt, and the fleeting wordless thoughts of what he needed. 

Granted, he does not follow those same wants. He doubts Tsukishima likes being hurt the same way he does. 

He pours extra lube down, making the slow in-and-out of his finger as easy as he can. Tsukishima lets out quiet sounds, but he is mostly still. He is so hushed, that for a moment Yamaguchi worries this is doing nothing for him, that maybe he is just too shy to speak up and ask him to stop. 

He pauses with the realization.

Immediately, Tsukishima's back arches off the bed, pushing back onto Yamaguchi's hand. "Nn, no, no." His voice is weak and raspy, and reminds Yamaguchi of how it had sounded last year after an all-night concert they'd gone to.

It would be impossible to misunderstand, but fuck, he wants to hear Tsukishima's voice. "Tsukki, want me to stop?"

" _No_ ," Tsukishima snaps, like that would be the end of the world, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Yamaguchi returns to the dutiful thrust of his finger, soon sliding in a second. It is easier than he expected, especially with Tsukishima pressing back into it. The wet _schlick_ of his fingers nearly drowns out Tsukishima's weak voice. "Does it feel good? Weird?"

"S-Shut _up_ , Yamaguchi," Tsukishima tells him, lacking any of his usual feigned annoyance. 

Yamaguchi presses against Tsukishima's inner walls as he pushes his fingers in. Each time he is buried deep, Tsukishima's back arches, his whole body going taut. He feels Tsukishima stretching around him with awe. He thinks of Shimada praising him, thinks of how hot it made him burn up. He crooks his fingers, sees Tsukishima's eyes go wide, feels him clench around him, silent. 

"You're so pretty, Tsukki," he whispers, dragging his fingers gentle across the same spot again, letting Tsukishima writhe back into the touch. "That good?"

Tsukishima at least tries to answer this time, between heavy pants, with his body twisting with desperation, "it's too - ahh... Fuck. Fuck it. Yeah."

"Yeah?" Yamaguchi murmurs, his fingers moving faster for the friction inside of him. "Is that - that's good? Tsukki, you feel so hot inside." Tsukishima's breathing sounds hoarse. He has tears in his eyes. Yamaguchi remembers that point, that impossibly high peak of heat. He has to shift, essentially straddling one of Tsukishima's legs to be able to reach his cock with his mouth. 

At Yamaguchi's lips wet around him, Tsukishima _squeeks_. His eyes are clenched shut, and his other knee rises and falls like he doesn't know what to do with his limbs. "Yama--ahh, too mm... Much."

Yamaguchi sucks gently at first, but feels Tsukishima losing his composure, tipping over the edge. He keeps his jaw as loose as he can. Tsukishima is too fargone to hold back, rocking his hips back against Yamaguchi's hand and inadvertantly pushing his cock down his throat. Yamaguchi is impressed with himself for not gagging, but there's something enjoyable about being so close to it. He feels dizzy letting Tsukishima fuck his mouth, drool sliding down his lips.

Yamaguchi looks up at Tsukishima through his eyelashes, his own eyes watery with the strain. He is sure he looks a mess, now, with hair tousled as ever, choking on Tsukishima's cock and hunched over to finger him, too. He is not gorgeous like Tsukishima, he knows he is not, but - Tsukishima meets his eyes. Tsukishima with perfect mussed up hair and such pretty, _pretty_ tear-streaks on his cheeks, biting his lip and cutching at the blankets underneath him.

Yamaguchi pulls up to tell him how beautiful he is again, but winds up blinking with Tsukishima's come hot on his cheek. He feels his cock throbbing, remembers Shimada coming on his back, and feels like perhaps he is inherently a pervert.

He withdraws his fingers gingerly, enjoying the way Tsukishima shudders at the drag, and the way he is still whimpering moments later. 

They stare at each other for a moment, until Tsukishima demands, "kiss me."

Yamaguchi blinks, pointedly leaning his head to the side with come on his cheek. And in his hair. "Are you sure? I'm - I need to clean up."

Tsukishima looks so irritated that Yamaguchi doesn't wait for him to repeat himself. Yamaguchi kisses him soft, careful not to smear anything on him.

He pulls back. " _Well_ ," Yamaguchi says with as much authority as he can muster, "that was fun." Tsukishima looks at him like he is an idiot. Yamaguchi can only snicker at himself. "I'm gonna run a bath for us, okay? I get first turn, though."

As he walks, he tugs his hair from his sloppy ponytail that he'd forgotten all about, ten kinds of ruined from Tsukishima's fingers. He peels his shirt off and uses it to wipe off his face, mentally noting that he should start a load of laundry tonight, too.

"Yamaguchi."

Hand on the doorknob, Yamaguchi turns. Rubs at his cheek again self-consciously, just in case. "What's up, Tsukki?"

Tsukishima's glasses are crooked. He sits at the edge of the bed, his toes nudging his pants on the floor almost shyly. He meets Yamaguchi's eyes, and somehow this is more vulnerable than Yamaguchi has seen him all day. The clash of Tsukishima naked on Shimada's bed is interesting but nice in it's own way.

Tsukishima smiles, the same fake way he smiles at others when he is picking apart their flaws, care-free and willing to break someone. "I still love you."

Yamaguchi is on the other side of the closed door almost before the sentence is over, the door slamming shut in punctuation. He hears his own voice, mechanical and cracking half-way through, "I'll tell you when the bath is ready, Tsukki! Okay? I'll come get you, and, and I'll set out a towel."

His footsteps are thunderous as he rushes downstairs without waiting for an answer. He realizes distantly that his change of clothes is in the room he just fled. He stares into the water as the tub fills, replaying the words in his head and using the motion of the ripples to keep from having a panic attack.

He rinses himself off before letting himself soak in the warm water. 

_Still_ , he had said. _Still_.

There is a temptation to linger in the bath, and after that, downstairs. He thinks of how awkward Tsukishima must feel, alone in an unfamiliar house in the bedroom, right after - what they did, and that keeps him from taking too long. That, and stressing over it is going to give him chest pains.

Still. 

His head hurts. His chest is aching despite his best efforts against it. 

When he makes it back to the bedroom, Tsukishima is sitting on the floor again in his boxers, playing that racing game. Golden eyes flicker in his direction, and Yamaguchi is acutely aware that all he has is a towel around his waist. He gets changed in the uncomfortable silence, pulling on an over-sized sweatshirt and a pair of Shimada's boxers beause he feels too awkward to be searching for his own, wherever they are.

"The bath's ready, if you wanna clean up," Yamaguchi says, unable to look away from the dresser even though he is finished getting dressed. He is just repeating himself like an idiot. "There's a towel set out for you."

Tsukishima escapes the room wordlessly, his clothes under his arm. Yamaguchi expects his breath to come easier when he is alone. It doesn't.

 _Still_. 

He spends much longer in his bath than Yamaguchi had. So long that Yamaguchi begins to worry that maybe he has dozed off in the tub, and hesitantly makes his way downstairs to check on him. Instead he finds the blond laying across the couch like he belongs there, looking long-since washed and dressed and rapidly typing out text messages on his phone.

He is so wrapped up in his texting that he does not notice Yamaguchi approaching. 

Yamaguchi peers over his shoulder, but can't read the screen very well. He spots the words _how do you deal with_ , but then ruins his own chance at spying to ask "Who ya talkin' to, Tsukki?"

Tsukishima's shoulders jump. He does not look at Yamaguchi. "No one."

"Right." Yamaguchi bends over, resting his head on his arms and his arms on the back of the couch. He stares down at Tsukishima's back. He always likes seeing him laying down; it's like he's all stretched out and Yamaguchi can appreciate how tall he is, how long his back and legs extend. 

Yamaguchi hums. Tsukishima texts.

"What did you mean, 'still?'"

Tsukishima gives him a withering look. His phone vibrates, and he returns to his conversation. If Yamaguchi had to guess, based on his observed Tsukki-Texting-Habits: it's probably the Nekoma captain.

"You know what I mean," Tsukishima tells him. "Still means still."

This is oddly conversational, but Yamaguchi supposes that is better than succumbing to the anxious hurt that wants to make him angry. His mind wants him to be furious with Tsukishima, because no matter what he means, this is some bullshit. To have said nothing before, when he had so many opportunities. When Yamaguchi had been so vulnerable, to have kept his mouth shut. 

To say something _now_ of all times, like he is simply being posessive of a toy. Yamaguchi talks himself down from manic irritation, and tries to soothe his nerves.

As if he is asking the weather, he asks, "Since when?"

Tsukishima's annoyance is sharp in his eyes. "I don't _know_ Yamaguchi. I didn't write down a date."

"February 17th, for me," Yamaguchi jokes, an arbitrary date he pulls from his mind.

Tsukishima looks up at him, expression unreadable.

"... That was a joke," Yamaguchi clarifies, embarrassed. He is not _that_ creepy, or at least, would like to pretend he isn't. Besides, between the two of them, Tsukishima has always been the one who is better with dates. Yamaguchi sometimes thinks he would forget his own birthday without Tsukishima around to remind him.

"That was a concert we went to," Tsukishima says, sounding suspicious as he slowly turns to look back at his phone.

Yamaguchi blinks. "What? No, it - was it?" He tries to remember. He can almost count the concerts they've gone to together on one hand, but still mentally lists them out, looking at his fingers to remember. There was the one in December, at an outdoor venue. They had frozen their asses off, but Tsukishima would never complain for that band.

There was one in February, shortly after. Yamaguchi remembers being fresh back into his friendship with Tsukishima, and thinking fondly, 'I guess this is my life now. Going to concerts every other month for bands I don't care about.' But that one had been on Valentine's Day. He remembers, because it's hard to forget things like that when you're trying to have a platonic outing on Valentine's Day.

Then there had been one the next summer. The evening air was the perfect temperature for T-shirts and shorts, even when the stars came out. Tsukishima had been uncharacteristically clumsy, stumbling over his own feet on the walk back to the station because he was busy staring up at the clear night sky. Another concert was next year, one that they had left early. Tsukishima was heart-set on _one_ band, and the venue had been awful. Stuffy, no ventilation, hotter than hell. After his preferred band played, the first in a line-up of five, they had bailed.

Then there was the one on - February 17th, apparently. He tries to remember that concert. All he can recall is the roar of the crowd, the push of the two of them shoulder to shoulder. Tsukishima's eyes shining and his cheeks flushed from cold and body heat both at once. He remembers walking home, both singing their songs together in the moonlight, and Tsukishima only laughing when Yamaguchi mixed up the lyrics.

He is not that creepy, he tells himself. _He is not that creepy._

Yamaguchi's mind and mouth are on different wavelengths. "Which band was that?"

"Mercenary."

"Right." 

"I'm seeing them again, next month. In Tokyo."

Yamaguchi doesn't much care for their music. It isn't bad at all, but they have a very generic sound. Tsukishima's tastes are all over the place, despite what people assume. He likes at least a dozen bands in any given genre or era, but Yamaguchi knows he is oddly infatuated with this one in particular. Their lyrics seem vague enough to appeal to anyone at first listen, but the more Yamaguchi hears them, the less he can relate. Maybe it's the opposite for Tsukishima.

It isn't as though he would have been excited to see them live, again. His chest still tightens uncomfortably. Tsukishima always invites him to concerts, because even when he doesn't know the band and even when he doesn't _like_ them, he is still always eager to join him. This is the first he's heard of this trip. 

In Tokyo. "Oh." Yamaguchi realizes, logically, that he is ridiculous to feel jealous. He is horrified to hear the twinge of it in his own voice, "with the Nekoma captain?"

"Not quite," Tsukishima says. Yamaguchi's relief is shortlived, because Tsukishima is a bastard. He _smirks_ , tilting his chin to look up at Yamaguchi. "Just staying the night, since it's such a late show."

Yamaguchi considers. He has thought of his relationship with Shimada as strange, but maybe he is not the only one with circumstances. It is a secret, the same way that other people must have secrets hidden beneath the surface. 

Tsukishima's phone vibrates again, and there is something fond in the way Tsukishima eyes glint at whatever the message he receieved says. Yamaguchi supposes this is a possible reality.

He doesn't like it. It is hypocritical, but he doesn't like it. He knows, too, that Tsukishima should be allowed his own hobbies and interests and there is _doubly_ no reason he should always be inviting Yamaguchi along, these days. He should not feel so put out that he was not invited. Should not feel annoyed that he is staying the night with his other friend. 

Yamaguchi cocks his head to the side, because these things don't add up in his mind. "But you love me?"

"Yes," Tsukishima says, impatient. "We've been over that."

"That why you wanted me to break up with Shimada-san?"

He makes a good show of being completelely absorbed in his cell phone, but Yamaguchi does not miss how brittle his body has gone. "Mm-hmm."

He is glad that he does not even second-guess himself to say, "I'm not going to."

His shoulders fall just a fraction of an inch. "Yeah."

Yamaguchi opens his mouth to tell him he still loves him too. Stupidly and obsessively. Forever, probably, like an idiot. But he closes his mouth instead, because it must be obvious. Instead he circles around the couch, kneeling down beside it, next to Tsukishima.

The taller boy tilts the screen of his phone away. He turns his head to look at Yamaguchi, resting it on his arms as though he is laying down to nap.

Yamaguchi leans in close and gives his best puppy eyes. Even as he does it, he is sure he making a bad decision, but he pouts, "I can't come?"

If Tsukishima has any thoughts about how shitty it is for Yamaguchi to be pleading for his attention while avoiding his advances, it doesn't show. He looks amused, if anything. "I'll think about it, if you're good."

"I'm always good," he promises, circling around the couch to sit down on the floor and lean against it. 

Tsukishima shrugs. "Then you can always come."

When Shimada comes home, they are both asleep. Tsukishima laying on the couch, and Yamaguchi still resting his arms on it, seated on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Tetsurou Kuroo welcomes the both of them into his house, Kenma hovering behind him like a nervous shadow.


	10. Now my sheets grow cold as I am sleeping

Tetsurou Kuroo welcomes them both into his house, Kenma hovering behind him like a nervous shadow. His eyes dart around anxiously in a way that is not unfamiliar to Tsukishima. He finds himself eying Yamaguchi to make sure he is not leeching the nervousness, but the other boy appears fine – if not slightly awkward in a near-stranger's home.  
  
Tsukishima has never been here before, and it is strange to see in person what he has seen in the background of countless picture messages. Kuroo sends him a lot of selfies, but more often, he sends his attempts at sneaky pictures of Kenma. Tsukishima isn't exactly sure _why_ Kuroo thinks that he's interested in witnessing Kenma's perpetual annoyance at being photographed, especially given that he always replies by pointing out that he doesn't care, but nothing seems to deter him.  
  
Kuroo gives them both a grand tour, letting them set their things in s bedroom. It is a western style room, and surprisingly clean; like everything in the room has a place it belongs. There is no clutter besides the occasional stray jersey or pair of sweatpants on the floor. Tsukishima lingers on this observation for a moment. A smaller jersey next to the larger one is not so questionable in a Tokyo summer. The differing sizes in the discarded sweatpants is another matter. He withholds comment.  
  
Tsukishima always likes looking at the small trinkets people keep around. He has his brother's hand-me-down toys and figurines. They were his prized treasures when he was young. Now it just feels strange to even consider throwing them out, the extent that his closet is full of bullshit he doesn't know what to do with.  
  
Yamaguchi's room is full of trashy light novels – more than you would expect from someone who rarely mentions them and can't always sit through a full movie without getting antsy. Tsukishima can't recall the last time he saw Yamaguchi's floor beneath the laundry, yet it never feels particularly cluttered, even though he knows Yamaguchi is something of a hoarder. He's got a stash of every-single-photo-that-has-ever-touched-his-hands, unorganized, loose in his second desk drawer.  
  
“My parents are on an embarrassing, super romantic anniversary vacation or something,” Kuroo explains, “so you guys could sleep in their room. Or if that's weird you can sleep in my room and we'll crash in their room.”  
  
For as casually as Kuroo states it, Tsukishima takes notice of the way Kenma's eyes avert. The way his shoulders tense like he is waiting for someone to comment on how strange this is. Tsukishima does nothing to change his usual flat tone, but hopes it still manages to be a comfort when he says, “either is fine.”  
  
After a couple awkward moments seated around Kuroo's living room, they decide his house is boring. A short discussion ends in a trip to Tokyo Tower. May as well, Yamaguchi says, and even Kenma looks a bit excited. Tsukishima wouldn't have expected that from someone who could go any time.  
  
You would think familiar options would lose their appeal, eventually. He watches Yamaguchi fuss over souvenirs and rethinks.  
  
“Do you think a keychain or a magnet is better?” Yamaguchi asks, holding one in each hand. Tsukishima shrugs. He's in no mood to be picking gifts for Yamaguchi's boyfriend. Yamaguchi looks a bit put out, mumbling, “I guess they're both pretty cheap.” He still deliberates for another ten minutes before settling on a magnet of a shooting star over the tower.   
  
They have to seek out Kuroo through the crowds, and meet back up with him and Kenma by the windows. For a while they just enjoy the scenery, looking down on the cityscape.  
  
“It's cool to be so high up,” Yamaguchi says.  
  
Kenma mutters something under his breath, and after being elbowed in the shoulder by Kuroo, repeats it louder, “can't be that different from usual.”  
  
“Tsukki is 188 cm,” Yamaguchi says, like he is desperately trying to sound casual about inserting it into the conversation.  
  
“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima warns him, fighting the tug at his lips.  
  
“Kuroo is 187,” Kenma offers, like they are trading secrets. He looks up from his phone, from the picture he'd been taking with it, and offers Yamaguchi a hesitant smile. “point seven.”  
  
“Oho,” Kuroo chimes, looking pleased by the attention to detail.  
  
Not to be out done, Yamaguchi amends, “point three.”  
  
Tsukishima resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. “You don't need to brag on my behalf.”  
  
Yamaguchi does not apologize. He just snickers, then leans forward to address Kenma past the other two. “I'm 179. I think.”  
  
Kenma looks a bit self conscious, shrinking back as if to hide behind Kuroo, while still peering past to keep talking to Yamaguchi. “170-ish.”  
  
Kuroo snorts loudly, then sputters as Kenma punches him in the side. “Wha-hey! What? You're free to round up. Follows your dreams, I don't care.”  
  
It's getting dark when they split up. Kuroo makes sure they know the way back to his place, then waves them off.  
  
The show is at a bar, with all the tables and bartender sectioned off. The two of them get their hands stamped and let in towards the front, but after standing around in the crowd, decide to seek out a table. Tsukishima figures if they're caught they can just disappear into the crowd, where they're supposed to be.  
  
Thankfully no one hassles them to begin with. By the time they find a small table with a decent view, one of the opening bands is playing.  
  
They aren't bad. Tsukishima makes note of them on his phone to look them up later. Their sound is more amateur than Mercenary, but a similar genre. He likes the hard bass thrum, and surprisingly he likes that the singer's voice is drowning in the music. Usually that sort of thing annoys him, but it's nice.  
  
He glances over to Yamaguchi, watching him nod along with the beat. His hair is tied back to counter the stuffy over-crowded heat, but Tsukishima can still see beads of sweat at his neck.  
  
The thought occurs to him that he wants to lick them. He is beyond questioning his impulses, honestly, and lets the thought come and go from his mind.  
  
Yamaguchi catches him staring, and grins.  
  
All three opening bands are good enough that Tsukishima wants to look them up later, though Yamaguchi keeps snickering at the lyrics by the second group. Tsukishima doesn't mind when their tastes don't line up. If anything, it's nice to see Yamaguchi smiling, eyes crinkling shut and cheeks dimpling.  
  
They move away from the tables when Mercenary comes on. It's easy to get lost in their playing. Tsukishima's favorite kind of music is like theirs. Self indulgent. Music that can almost devolve into just shouting and screaming until your voice cracks without ceasing to be a song. He isn't sure why, exactly. He doesn't think he's got repressed anger problems, and for as much as he enjoys being a sarcastic dick, he's not particularly bitter to the world. Not really. He likes to think of himself as a realist more than a pessimist.   
  
The crowd jumps with the rhythm. Everyone around him calls out the lyrics like an answer, him included. He knows his voice is lost in the crowd, but it's a comfort. It is too hot, he feels sweaty arms brush against him, people bump into him, over-eager. Lights flash and strobe and Yamaguchi is beside him just as swept up in the energy.  
  
He doesn't realize how exhausted he is until they are in the evening air, an hour later. It has been raining and the streets are wet, dark and reflecting all the Tokyo city lights on the ground. It feels nice to lean against the brick walls as they wait for the taxi, even with it rubbing rough on his arms.  
  
Yamaguchi pulls him away from it, pulls them flush together. Tsukishima allows it. He still feels lightning in his veins, feels all the lights glowing brighter with the high of the show.  
  
“You're so pretty,” Yamaguchi tells him, lips already brushing together lightly.  
  
Tsukishima lets himself be lost in this, as well. Music still replaying in his head, and even with fuzzy-ears from the screaming and the speakers, he is still acutely aware of the quiet, wet sound of Yamaguchi's lips parting for him.  
  
He doesn't want to stop making out. He's annoyed when their cab comes, further annoyed with the knowledge that they are staying at someone else's house and it is probably rude to have sex on Kuroo's bed.  
  
He debates how much he cares the whole way back, staring at the back of Yamaguchi's head as the other boy watches rain pour down the window. He knows his reflection gives him away, but doesn't mind. He's given up pretenses of not being head over heels for Yamaguchi like a fucking idiot, in not being desperate enough to just be the boy Yamaguchi cheats on his boyfriend with.  
  
Actually being face to face with Kuroo is something of a libido killer, but it's a relief.  
  
Kenma is sprawled out on the couch, playing on his DS, and Kuroo leads them to join him. Tsukishima is exhausted, despite it being fairly early in the night. He sees the drowsy slouch of Yamaguchi's shoulders as he sits beside Kenma and knows he feels the same. He just wants to lay down. Preferably with Yamaguchi. Preferably with Yamaguchi's mouth. And hands.  
  
He's grateful for the distraction when Kuroo turns on some american action film to keep the room from being awkwardly silent.  
  
Kuroo chats with him about the music with occasional input from the other two. Tsukishima is actually a bit pleased to see them branch off into their own conversation, though, about Nokemon and cell phone games. He mostly tunes them out, entirely disinterested in the subjects, but finds his gaze lingering.  
  
He's glad they seem to be getting along.  
  
He doesn't recall exactly how it came up, but he knows the two of them have a lot in common. Kuroo has mentioned Kenma's anxiety a couple of times, with a casual sort of familiarity. He was there. Unlike Tsukishima, he was _there_ when Kenma's psyche fractured.  
  
Tsukishima had asked him “how do you deal with it?”  
  
Kuroo is hard to figure out. He is aggressively kind, while also talking down to people. Tsukishima can never quite tell when he is joking and when he is being sincere. Maybe there is not a difference.  
  
Kuroo had told him, “just be around. That's really all you can do for anyone.”  
  
Tsukishima winces even now, just thinking of it.  
  
Oblivious, Kuroo had immediately brushed on, as if 'just be around' had been something he thought Tsukishima would never need to be reminded of. That must be how it looks to others. Sometimes Tsukishima wonders how people see them. How they see Yamaguchi's loyalty. If they wonder why he sticks around. If they take it for granted. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima are always together.  
  
People must think they always have been. But they weren't, for a time. An important time.  
  
“I guess one of the things I've noticed,” Kuroo had said, “is that people want to fix. You can't fix people. People aren't inherently broken, even when they think they are.”  
  
When Tsukishima finally tunes back in to Kenma and Yamaguchi's conversation, they are discussing different medications, listing them back and forth like they are listing the nokemon they've caught.   
  
“Oh, that one made me break out really bad,” Yamaguchi is saying. He is not loud, but is not quiet. Tsukishima glances over to see Kuroo looking pointedly at the tv, as if giving the two of them privacy however he can. “It made my emotions, like... Shut off.”  
  
“Mm... It made me a zombie for a month or so, and really sleepy. But then it got better. I'm still on that one.“ Kenma is quieter, shy, but Tsukishima hears excitement in his voice. Strange, Tsukishima thinks, but maybe it's nice to have someone who understands. Not just a supportive friend, like Kuroo, but someone who has had similar experiences.  
  
Tsukishima has never heard many details of what exactly is going on with Yamaguchi. Anxiety of some kind, but that's all he knows. Equally, it's all he could recognize just watching Kenma. He listens to them trading diagnoses and almost laughing at them. “Bipolar,” Yamaguchi offers up, and Kenma replies, “depression, mostly, and social anxiety.”  
  
Tsukishima fights back jealousy. He wants to be told things. Not someone Yamaguchi barely _knows_. But it's someone who knows more about it. Can actually relate. Still.  
  
Kenma falls asleep first, curled up on the couch.  
  
Tsukishima watches the way Kuroo wakes him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Kenma stirs, and sleepily drags himself down the hall. Kuroo motions for them to follow, then nods them to his parents' room. He does not offer them a couch or a futon. Tsukishima has not told him enough for him to expect them to share a bed, but he doesn't question it.  
  
A bed looks like heaven. His body feels sore from the crowd and the heat and the excitement. He doesn't have that electricity down to his fingertips anymore, but the world still feels shiny and bright. His chest still feels a strong ache over every little thing, over emotional.  
  
It should not be awkward to change into his bed clothes next to Yamaguchi – not when they change in the club room almost every day. Not when they've done what they've done. He still feels strange hearing the rustle of clothes, both of them pointedly looking away from each other.  
  
But it is comfortable to climb into the bed, however unfamiliar, and feel Yamaguchi slide behind him. Yamaguchi wraps an arm over him, lining their bodies up. It is not sexual. It is warm and soothing, and Yamaguchi does it like second-nature. Squeezes tight around his waist, rubs his lower back almost idly with his thumb. Presses kisses into the back of his neck.  
  
In the quiet room it almost feels more dizzying than the concert had. Briefly, he can forget about all the aspects of this that he hates.  
  
“Does Shimada know,” he asks, eventually, “that you do this kind of thing with me?”  
  
Tsukishima doesn't peg Yamaguchi as the type to cheat. But here he is. Just like he has been for the past month; too close, too intimate. Completely inappropriate. They haven't spoken about Tsukishima's confession. Tsukishima hasn't reminded him to break up with Shimada.  
  
He isn't sure why. It seems clear from the general state of things that Yamaguchi doesn't love him like he used to, doesn't need him. Maybe he is just getting by on good looks. Maybe it's just loyalty.  
  
Yamaguchi's response takes a while, but in the pause he continues kissing between Tsukishima's shoulders. Then, “yeah, of course.”  
  
This gets him to crane his neck, try to glimpse Yamaguchi over his shoulder.He is not sure what to say.  
  
“I'm allowed,” Yamaguchi says, and shrugs, as if it is the most natural thing in the world. “Besides, it's probably, um... You know. Healthier to be with someone my own age.”  
  
“Is this healthy?” Tsukishima asks.  
  
He is hyper-aware of the quiet. Of how long the silence is. His mind fills it in with music, songs he hasn't even heard in months. The room is too bright, now that his eyes have adjusted to it. Moonlight keeps away the darkness. City lights, too. He does not live particularly close to the forests, back home, but the buzz outside the window here feels unnatural.  
  
Maybe he's just searching for an excuse for his discomfort. Something to deflect from the reality that no. This probably is not healthy. Kissing whenever they can, fooling around - in secret, he had thought. Apparently not.  
  
Too much goes on in Yamaguchi's head that Tsukishima knows he will never hear or understand.  
  
Eventually Yamaguchi says, “It could be.”  
  
Tsukishima almost loses the words in the palm pressed to his chest. The way it drags lower, smooth down his stomach.  
  
Yamaguchi sits up in the darkness, gently pushing his hand against Tsukishima's hip to turn him onto his back. He slides down until instead of his hand, it's his mouth, lips and tongue making a trail down lower.  
  
It is vaguely scandelous to get a blowjob in Kuroo's parents' bed, knowing Kuroo and Kenma are just down the hall. And for as much as he recognizes this as a distraction, as an unskilled evasion as subtle as a brick, Tsukishima does not have the willpower to resist it. Not when Yamaguchi's mouth is hot and wet, tongue running loosely over the head of his cock.  
  
His hands bury in Yamaguchi's hair, tugging out the long-since forgotten ponytail. Holding it out of his way. They only spoke of it once before, but he remembers Yamaguchi's complaints of his hair getting in the way.  
  
Sometimes he pulls just a bit too hard. Light from the window only highlights the way Yamaguchi opens his mouth around him in a silent moan, quieting himself until it is just a whimper. He likes this. Even likes the breaks Yamaguchi has to take when his jaw is tired, just resting his head at Tsukishima's pelvis and running his tongue along his shaft. Suckling on him, trying to hide the way his own legs are squirming in aroused discomfort.  
  
Tsukishima pulls him up by the hair, pulls Yamaguchi over him until the smaller boy is straddling him, shivering. He tugs him down to kiss, stomach doing strange flips at the idea that the mouth on his was just sucking him off.  
  
That should probably be gross instead of hot. He glides his hips up, friction against the bulge in Yamaguchi's pants. He likes when Yamaguchi shudders, lips parting with heavy breath into his mouth. Likes watching Yamaguchi gently rolling his hips above him, a slow, rhythmic motion.  
  
Tsukishima reaches down to tug Yamaguchi's pants down, to get direct contact between them, loosely holding them together. His gaze is sharp watching the boy ride into his grip, watching the dazed look in his eyes. Sometimes Yamaguchi glances down, whole body tensing when they make eye contact, beforequickly looking away.  
  
Yamaguchi is beautiful. Tsukishima knows that he himself gets called handsome, but this is because he is sharp and clean, and people are stupid. But Yamaguchi – God, Yamaguchi. He is messy, his hair is stringy with sweat, curling against his flushed cheeks and neck. His expression is lazy and sleepy and Tsukishima hears the quiet hiss of him catching himself from drooling and almost wants to laugh.  
  
“Can't,” Yamaguchi says quietly, his breath hitching with the squeeze of Tsukishima's fingers. “Can't get the bed dirty.”  
  
“It's already sweaty,” Tsukishima murmurs. It's surprisingly difficult to speak at all. “Kuroo will wash it.”  
  
“Shut up,” Yamaguchi tells him, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowing, the rocking of his hips stuttering. Tsukishima feels his grip weaken, startled. Yamaguchi _never_ speaks to him that way outside of jokes. He is too surprised to even be offended. “Don't talk about Kuroo.”  
  
Tsukishima flexes his fingers, regaining his hold and sliding his hands up and down their slick cocks. He'd be worried about being too harsh if it weren't for the pre and lingering spit. If it weren't for knowing Yamaguchi likes a little hurt. He can feel the pace getting erratic, feel Yamaguchi's desperation as he rides himself closer to the edge. “ _You_ are not allowed to get jealous.”  
  
Yamaguchi is red-faced, eyes clenched shut in embarrassment as he whispers in time with the wavelike movement of his body, “shut up, shut up.” Despite his words, his hand seeks out Tsukishima's free hand, fingers lacing together, weight resting down on it. His mantra slurs its way into becoming “Tsukki, Tsukki...”  
  
Tsukishima strokes him off to completion, feels the shudder of Yamaguchi's whole body. Feels his cock twitch in his hand, come spilling all over his fingers and onto his stomach. Their held hands squeeze tight, and for a long time after Yamaguchi stays on top of him, body heaving. Eventually he reaches down between them, circling his hand around Tsukishima's still-hard erection.  
  
He lowers down to press their foreheads together, not minding the come that dampens his shirt or the strain to jerk him off between them when they are so close. It doesn't take long for him to come, mind still reeling with the image of Yamaguchi over him. He tenses, silent, biting lightly on Yamaguchi's bottom lip.  
  
A moment later they are snickering like idiots, foreheads still pressed together.  
  
Tsukishima enjoys the arch of Yamaguchi's back as he pulls back to peels his shirt over his head. Thankfully Tsukishima's own shirt had ridden up, and all the come was wiped away by Yamaguchi's. One less come-stained shirt in their backpacks.  
  
Yamaguchi drops down and lays beside him, curling closer to rest his head on his chest. The rise and fall is uneven and short, but Tsukishima still finds a pattern to it. He taps his fingers on Yamaguchi's back in time with their heart-beats.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Tadashi Yamaguchi sounds far, far too confident when he says, “I just think your first time should be with someone more experienced than me – don't you?”


	11. Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know it occurs to me that for a fic i started writing with nothing in mind beyond writing shameful age difference threesome fic, this has been dragging on a long time. anyway enjoy my sins wherein everyone loves to be bossed around and everyone has weird incest kinks

  
Tadashi Yamaguchi sounds far, far too confident when he says, “I just think your first time should be with someone more experienced than me – don't you?”  
  
Tsukishima takes a moment to pull away from Yamaguchi. He is seated on his lap, the two of them a tangle on his bed as he pins the smaller boy to the wall. Just in case his incredulous expression was not enough, Tsukishima ventures, very slowly, “no. Not at all.”  
  
Yamaguchi looks sincerely thoughtful for a moment, and Tsukishima has to kiss the idiotic expression off his face, kiss him hard until his head is pressed to the wall and his breathing goes uneven. When he finally draws back, Yamaguchi sounds surprised, and picks up like he was never forcefully interrupted, albeit between heavy pants. “Really?”  
  
“Weren't you _just_ saying that this... Could be healthy?” Tsukishima asks. He has no faith in that. Sure, Shimada isn't exactly a  dangerous looking adult – and even Ukai, with his bleached hair and ripped jeans is pretty nonthreatening – but the fact remains that he _is_ an adult.  Dating a minor. “Is there any angle from which your creepy old man boyfriend sleeping with me is _not_ a train-wreck?”  
  
“Well visually,” Yamaguchi immediately quips, mind still obviously wandering. Tsukishima feels the other boy's erection twitch underneath his weight. He is still red-faced and breathing unevenly, and Tsukishima imagines only some of that is attributed to how much making out they have done today.  
  
Tsukishima gives an exaggerated grimace. He has to exaggerate because, well, it isn't like Shimada is _unattractive._ He's got a nice face. Smooth skin, a bit of a rarity among the high schoolers Tsukishima is surrounded by. His smile is alright.  
  
He frowns deeply. He is not considering it, but even admitting Shimada is handsome is a new level of desperation for Yamaguchi's affection.  
  
Yamaguchi is staring at him in the quiet. After a moment, he leans in to press their lips together, more chaste than how things have been for the past thirty minutes, like he's trying to draw out the answer with kisses like a sugar-coating. “You want to have sex, don't you? With me?”  
  
Tsukishima is startled by the bold words. That he doesn't stutter or trail off. To Tsukishima, this bluntness comes easily. “Yeah.”  
  
Yamaguchi speaks like he is negotiating. “But I'm pretty nervous about hurting you and stuff. It was overwhelming, but Shimada-san can make sure you're okay a lot better than I can. I think. It would only be the first time. Then I wouldn't be so nervous.”  
Tsukishima considers the pros and cons of it. The cons side is largely that Shimada is not, in fact, Yamaguchi, and is therefor worthless to him as a human being. On the pros side, he does have his looks going for him, and it would be nice to get to see first-hand how he treats others. Make sure he is treating Yamaguchi properly.  
  
“Still no.” Tsukishima says, and wonders why _his_ virginity is something that needs to be negotiated to Yamaguchi's comfort. He wonders how long Yamaguchi has been the one manipulating him when it's supposed to be the other way around.  
  
“Okay,” Yamaguchi concedes, with a loose shrug as if it had not been a request of huge importance or seriousness.   
  
“Well,” Tsukishima begins, not quite sure where he's going with it. He is not quite ready to end this conversation, though he doesn't know why when his answer is so resolute.   
  
Yamaguchi leans forward, but instead of a kiss he bumps their foreheads together. “Well?”  
  
“Visually,” Tsukishima repeats, and Yamaguchi snorts a bit as if it had been a joke. Tsukishima knows better. “So... You'd be there?”  
  
Yamaguchi blinks at him, like the thought never occurred to him. “If you'd want me to be.”  
  
Tsukishima is almost annoyed by how easy it is to visualize. He's already been in Shimada's house and remembers how his bed felt underneath him. Remembers what Yamaguchi's fingers had felt like pressing inside him, spreading him open. And he knows all too well that glazed expression Yamaguchi gets, almost sleepy, when he's turned on.  
  
The concept of virginity has never been as important to Tsukishima as it is to other boys his age. It seems like an arbitrary line to draw when physicality is a natural flow. Kissing, making out, touching, fucking – setting hard-line labels for 'stages' as if they exist seems stupid.  
  
If he were to sleep with Shimada – though, obviously he would never – it would just be a step taken towards sleeping with Yamaguchi. A step meant to soothe Yamaguchi more than Tsukishima himself. Maybe even to reward him a little bit, if he likes that idea so much. He thinks of the concert, and saying he'd take him if Yamaguchi was 'good.' Maybe he is rewarding him too much, lately.  
  
Oh well.  
  
Tsukishima says, quiet, “I wouldn't do it if you weren't there.”  
  
“It's okay if you won't do it,” Yamaguchi assures him, and leans forward to snicker into Tsukishima's shoulder. “It was just an idea.”  
  
“Bad idea,” Tsukishima says.   
  
***  
  
“Bad idea,” Shimada says, looking somewhere between offended and horrified.  
  
Yamaguchi is sitting on the floor, back leaning against Shimada's bed. His arms are resting loosely over Tsukishima's shoulders as the larger boy sits in between his legs, slouching so far down he is practically laying on the floor.  
  
By now Yamaguchi is in good enough health and is staying back at his own home, but that doesn't mean he does not spend the evenings at Shimada's, once the man is off from work.   
  
Sometimes Tsukishima comes with. The two of them aren't disgustingly lovey-dovey in front of him, and he supposes playing video games with them both, and getting dinner isn't the worst way to spend his time. It's better than the quiet dinners at home with his prim and proper parents, awkwardly staring across the table at Akiteru. The distance of the table feels like a thousand miles.  
  
Sometimes they beat Shimada to his house, and Yamaguchi lets them in like he owns the place. Like today. The tv is on, playing a pre-recorded physics documentary that Tsukishima finds fascinating. He wishes he could pay more attention to it, but the apparent bartering of his virginity that began the moment Shimada stepped into the room is a little too personal to tune out.   
  
“I thought so too, for the record,” Tsukishima offers, dryly.  
  
Shimada gives him a betrayed look, as if to say, _then why aren't you protesting more?_   
  
Tsukishima delights in abandoning him to deal with it himself.   
  
Shimada buries his face in one hand, sighing loudly and lifting his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Tadashi, look. I know you want to, um... Help Tsukki out? I guess?”  
  
Tsukishima is used to the nickname by now, a habit the older man seems to have picked up from Yamaguchi and failed to break himself of. Tsukishima complained the first couple times, and Shimada apologized and stuttered out his surname instead a couple times after that. It was too exhausting to keep correcting him.  
  
He's more annoyed that Shimada calls Yamaguchi by his first name, when Tsukishima has not gotten there, himself.   
  
He feels the ripple of Yamaguchi's body as he nods. Tsukishima tilts his head back to look up, and sees the innocent pout on Yamaguchi's face.  
  
Yamaguchi has the both of them wrapped around his finger, whether he realizes it or not. There's some relief in not being the only one he has whipped. In knowing that Yamaguchi might _actually_ be the one in charge between those two, despite the age difference.  
  
Shimada meets Yamaguchi's gaze sternly, but Tsukishima can tell his resolve is weak. He looks uncomfortably parental, until he speaks, voice soft. “You know that I'm not... I mean... You know that none of this is _because_ you're young, right? I'm not _looking_ for that. It's just you.”  
  
Now it is uncomfortably intimate. Tsukishima feels like he is invading their privacy. Almost like he is not in the room at all, only eavesdropping. Tsukishima still can't shake the feeling that Shimada is a predator, but at least he says sweet things to Yamaguchi sometimes. Yamaguchi deserves that, and certainly wasn't going to get it from him.  
  
At least, not often. It's hard to predict even himself, lately.   
  
“I know,” Yamaguchi says. “I wasn't really thinking of it like it was for you. I was thinking about it for Tsukki.”   
  
Tsukishima expects some kind of hurt from the man, with how openly Yamaguchi dismisses his importance. Instead, understanding spreads across Shimada's face, and a strange hint of concern. He looks down to Tsukishima, taking him in. Probably sensing his discomfort. Tsukishima shifts in place, feeling awkward. His fingers ache from how tensely he has them linked together over his stomach.  
  
“He's lying,” he says to break the quiet. “He's thinking about it for himself.”  
  
He is comforted by Shimada laughing at his joke, then giving Yamaguchi a hum of feigned disapproval.  
  
“I am not!” Yamaguchi whines, nuzzling into Tsukishima's hair like he is begging for forgiveness but isn't sure who from. “I just think it's so comforting to be with someone who knows what they're doing.”  
  
Shimada has been across the room the whole conversation, and finally he approaches them. He crouches down to be closer to their level, and finally looks to Tsukishima to address him directly. “What do _you_ think?”  
  
Tsukishima finds himself averting his eyes despite his best efforts. Feels his cheeks heating up, no matter how hard he wills himself to stay calm and collected. “It's a decent bad idea.”  
  
“Are you agreeing because you're scared?” Shimada asks. There is a careful tone of acceptance to it. It reminds him of when he was a child and Akiteru would ask him how he was getting along with his schoolmates, already knowing the answer was going to be 'poorly.'  
  
Tsukishima forces himself to meet his gaze. “No.”  
  
“Are you agreeing because Tadashi asked?”  
  
He does not so much as blink. “Yes.”  
  
Tsukishima had expected this to be a Wrong Answer, even though it's the truth. Instead Shimada is quiet, considering. “If I said no, do you think you would end up having sex anyway?”  
  
“If I can bully him into it,” Tsukishima says. The only reason they have not is because Yamaguchi gets too anxious and stops any time they get close. Tsukishima does not honestly believe that an experienced partner will make his first time any better, but if it puts Yamaguchi's mind at ease, that's worth something.  
  
Yamaguchi is sulking again. Tsukishima feels his cheek rubbing into his hair, as if he is some sort of child's teddy-bear to be hugged for comfort. He is not used to getting this much physical affection. He is surprised by how much he enjoys it. Lounging with Yamaguchi cuddling him is relaxing.  
  
“If I said no,” Shimada murmurs, “I don't think I'd hear the end of it.”  
  
Tsukishima feels the tiny, warm puff of breath. A silent snicker into his hair, hidden.   
  
He is certain. Yamaguchi knows _exactly_ what he is doing. He gets exactly what he wants.   
  
Shimada concedes, and that is that.  
  
***  
  
It feels strange to schedule the loss of his virginity. Stranger still to walk alongside the boy he's hopelessly in love with to his boyfriend's house on the day-of.  
  
Shimada is nervous when he lets them in, fidgeting and shifting his weight endlessly. Tsukishima is glad for what this says about him as a person – that he knows this is a terrible idea. He is less glad for what this does to Yamaguchi, who seemed to have been winning the fight against his nerves until the moment they stepped inside his home.  
  
“Won't you get jealous?” Tsukishima asks belatedly, and is not entirely sure himself who he is referring too. Would someone who openly fools around with two people get jealous of one? If they are specifically with the other? _Which_ one? Does he consider Shimada his? Tsukishima?  
  
The question sets Yamaguchi's shoulders at ease, just a fraction, as the two of them follow Shimada to his bedroom. “Yeah, a little.”  
  
A sigh falls from his lips, dragged out and exhausted. Why would Yamaguchi do this to himself?  
  
“I'm not taking him from you,” Shimada reassures him, managing to almost sound defensive.  
  
“I know,” Yamaguchi says, and now he does not look so anxious anymore. He looks thoughtful. “Is it awkward if I'm there?”  
  
Shimada opens the door to his room and leads them inside. They have been here a dozen times, now, but Tsukishima still drags his gaze towards the bed with slow apprehension.  
  
“It's awkward no matter what,” he says at length, taking a seat at the edge of Shimada's bed. “So I mean. Fuck it, I guess.”  
  
This gets a laugh out of Shimada, which feels nice. Tsukishima likes making people laugh, to an extent. He is not particularly fond of cracking jokes and most of what others find funny annoys him - but there is certainly a part of him that makes snide comments and sarcastic quips in eager anticipation of Yamaguchi's snickering.  
  
“I know it's going to be awkward no matter what,” Shimada says, “but you need to relax as much as you can. You can always say stop.”  
  
Tsukishima nods, looking bland. That should go without saying. He isn't going to praise him for reaching the bottom line of decency.    
  
“I was thinking it might be easier for you to relax if Tadashi – helped.”  
  
Tsukishima glances over to Yamaguchi, who is looking startled and starry-eyed all at once. He has to admit that this is probably true. And it's hard to deny that expression. It's the same one he gets every year when Tsukishima gets him a birthday present; like he has never allowed himself to dream so big.  
  
“Yeah,” Tsukishima murmurs. “Probably.”  
  
Yamaguchi shifts in place, standing awkward between the two of them, unsure of where to go from here.   
  
Tsukishima is somewhat annoyed at having to lead when he should be the one being taken care of, but it's simple enough to raise his arms in command. Yamaguchi obeys, approaching him to climb onto his lap. He straddles him in a way that is increasingly familiar these days, pressing light kisses along his jaw until he reaches his lips.  
  
“Come here,” Yamaguchi says, glancing over his shoulder at the older man. He points beside him, instructing Shimada to sit beside them, closer to the pillows. Shimada obeys, with an easy shrug.   
  
Tsukishima is surprised to find that Shimada's presence does not bother him. Does not distract him. He is still a person, in Tsukishima's mind. He is close and warm, his body's slight movement as he breathes visible at the corner of Tsukishima's sight. He is not furniture. He is not unaware of them, and is not paying too much attention either.  
  
This is as much thought as Tsukishima can spare him before his mind is blissfully brought away. Yamaguchi kisses him harder, lips parting, guiding his to do the same. He defiantly stays upright, despite the temptation to let himself fall backwards with the push. Yamaguchi's body against his feels solid. He likes this. He knows that Yamaguchi likes boys and girls, and probably looks for different things in both, but Tsukishima can never imagine being attracted to girls. They are too soft and different.  
  
Yamaguchi's fingers snake back around his neck. It's soothing, letting his mind lose track of everything but the hot breath against his mouth, the tongue running over his bottom lip, tentative and shy. He is only vaguely aware of the sensation of Yamaguchi's thumb lifting his glasses just slightly to rub behind his ear in a firm massage as if he were a cat.  
  
Then his hand, trailing down to the hem of his shirt. Yamaguchi does not strip him as readily as he does when they are alone, but his hands slide under his shirt, allowing it to lift as he runs his hands up Tsukishima's chest.  
  
It only gets easier for things to escalate. They have spent a lot of time making out, over the past weeks. Tsukishima would not say it is habit, yet. It is still new and unsure, but exciting because of it. And in his excitement, he memorizes things. How to tilt his head, where to rest his hands on Yamaguchi's hips. Tsukishima is analytical by nature.  
  
Yamaguchi isn't. He is analytical by dedication. It is through careful attentiveness that he knows when to draw back and help peel Tsukishima's shirt over his head. He knows when to push him down without a fight until he is laying on the bed, pinned beneath him.  
  
The trail of kisses down to his hips is more ticklish than erotic, but this complaint quickly leaves his mind when Yamaguchi slides off the bed to kneel on the floor, unbuckling his belt. He still lifts his hips to let Yamaguchi slide off his pants and briefs.  
  
This part is awkward. He feels heat spread from his ears to his cheeks, and avoids looking at Shimada for as long as he can. When he finally does dare to peek, the man is more red-faced than him, staring intently forward and not looking at him.  
  
“You're going to have to deal with this,” Tsukishima tells him.  
  
Shimada appears to struggle with this concept before resigning himself to it. He looks down and meets Tsukishima's eyes. Then laughs, and despite his obvious nerves, the sound of it is relaxed. It's infectious. “Yeah. How are you doing?”  
  
He shivers involuntarily. Yamaguchi's mouth is leaving wet kisses at his inner thighs, so distracting and dizzying that he feels as if his sight loses focus. His mind blurs. It's hard to feel as embarrassed as he knows he should be; he easily accepts the feeling of Yamaguchi guiding his legs apart from between them. All he manages is a hazy, “um.”  
  
The embarrassment washes over him in an instant wave when Yamaguchi's tongue pushes warm and wet at his entrance. His cock twitches, hard and leaking already. His shame comes less from the sensation and more from the high pitched sound that involuntarily squeaks out of him.  
  
There is an irritating kindness that flits across Shimada's face. Tsukishima's breathing is uneven, hitching in time with the minute thrusts of Yamaguchi's tongue, and the way his thumb follows the wetness. He is hyper-aware of every inch of his body, of fingers and tongue both penetrating him, slow and careful and overwhelming.  
  
He clenches his eyes shut, focusing on the uneven sound of his own breathing. Relax, he reminds himself. It is easier with warm saliva instead of cold lube, with the combination of Yamaguchi's mouth and fingers working him looser and unwinding him slowly.   
  
It is harder with Yamaguchi rimming him in front of Shimada.   
  
He feels a hand on his head. Shimada's fingers burying gently into his hair, massaging him in time with the uncontrollable tremors of his body. Yamaguchi has worked his way to two fingers thrusting in and out of him, scissoring him open around his tongue. He can feel himself writhing into it, eyes stinging like he is on the verge of tears. He doesn't know if he can make it as far as sex. Too much more of this will push him over the edge.  
  
Tsukishima nuzzles into the hand in his hair without thinking.   
  
No. That isn't true. He thinks of when Akiteru used to pat his head when he came home from school. This is an alarming thought to have cross his mind at a time like this, and he quickly banishes it by forcing himself to open his eyes.   
  
Shimada smiles down at him, soft, his thumb stroking across his forehead. This does not help. There is too much desperation in his body and maybe his mind is mixing it up with a different kind of want.  
  
He doesn't want Yamaguchi to stop. It is just as too-much too-good as last time, but different, and there is a lightning need in his gut for more, for the rest of what today is for. He hears himself speak, short of breath and surprising himself, “stop.”   
  
Yamaguchi obeys in an instant. His fingers are still slick, resting close, but he draws back and rests his cheek on Tsukishima's thigh. They are quiet for a moment, looking at each other past Tsukishima's chest, still rising and falling dramatically.   
  
Tsukishima breaks eye contact first, tilting his head towards Shimada and commanding, “you.”   
  
He moves as if to stand, then hesitates. “Are you sure? You can change your mind.”   
  
Tsukishima considers. Yamaguchi's expression is dazed and flushed, and he's sure it would be easy to command him to keep going. Shimada's hand smooths through his hair, again. He tells himself he is shaking his head, not pushing into his palm. “No,” he says, and reiterates to the man with as much authority as he can muster, “you.”  
  
He likes that Shimada obeys him the same way Yamaguchi does. Enjoying the pleasure of bossing people around makes the awkward transition while the two of them swap places more bearable. Yamaguchi comes to rest beside him, immediately leaning over him to bury his face in Tsukishima's neck to leave hickeys. Tsukishima has to turn his head away to give him room, and spends his time watching Shimada undress.  
  
He spends so much time characterizing Shimada as a predator that it is easy to forget what he is really like. He's become more familiar, lately, with the time they spend at his house. He curses his own uncontrolled thoughts again as his eyes rake up Shimada's body with fondness. Shimada faces away as he strips, and Tsukishima sees the deep red of his ears that almost matches his glasses frames.  
  
It doesn't feel uncomfortable when Shimada climbs over him. The man is too careful, too gentle, so that all Tsukishima really feels is impatience. His fingers are thicker than Yamaguchi's when they press inside him, testing, but with lube instead of spit. Tsukishima is not sure whether he is more interested in the attentive expression on the man's face or the feeling of his length pushing into him.   
  
He feels himself stretching uncomfortably, and pushes down to get it over with. Shimada grunts, an almost pained sound, but Tsukishima knows it is not. He can't look at him anymore, and has to turn his head away.  
  
“Move,” he commands. He hears Yamaguchi snicker into his ear before nibbling at his lobe.  
  
Shimada is obedient, and doesn't ask him to elaborate. Good – Tsukishima does not think he could handle more than one word at a time right now.   
  
He understands what Yamaguchi meant when he described this. It's overwhelming. He feels his mind racing at million miles an hour, incoherent, unrelated thoughts that all come back to wanting more. He thinks of Yamaguchi leaning towards him, red-faced, trying to describe this. He pictures the two of them together. This time it doesn't make him angry.  
  
The slow drag of Shimada's cock inside him feels like it's stirring up his thoughts. They get near incoherent, a stream of consciousness mess, when Yamaguchi's hand slides along his abdomen, down to circle around his cock.  
  
He remembers mumbling in this haze when it had just been Yamaguchi, but now he is overwhelmed beyond that, only able to gasp weakly at each thrust, each slow stroke of his cock, timed careful by Yamaguchi's attentive watching. His eyes are tearing up.  
  
He is bigger than Shimada, he knows, but feels comfortably caged in by him. The man leans down and kisses the tear at the corner of Tsukishima's eye, bumping his glasses askew in the process. Tsukishima hears himself whimper. He opens his mouth, begins to whine, “Nii-ch--” but cuts off as Yamaguchi's tongue runs up his neck. He doesn't want to think about what that was going to be. Doesn't want to know if either of them heard him.  
  
Yamaguchi jerks him off, grip tighter, his pace speeding up even as Shimada's doesn't. Shimada over him is heavy, hot. His movements are fluid, hitting Tsukishima deep. Pressing into him so hard that Tsukishima thinks they will merge. Like hard hitting ocean-waves crashing into him.  
  
Over Shimada's panting, over his own gasps and whines, Yamaguchi whispers in his ear, “Tsukki, you like that?” He doesn't want to answer, but Yamaguchi must understand, because he just keeps talking, fingers curled around Tsukishima's throbbing length. “You like getting filled up? You're gonna look so good coming for me, Tsukki, you're gonna feel so good with Makoto's come all hot inside you.”  
  
Shimada scolds, between gritted teeth, “Tadashi.”  
  
Yamaguchi's voice is hot. Hell, at this point, Shimada's voice is hot. What pushes Tsukishima over the edge is the low, husky chuckle that Yamaguchi lets out. His cock twitches in Yamaguchi's fingers as he comes, and he can't stop from clamping down around Shimada inside of him.  
  
Shimada lets out a shuddering breath, struggling to hold himself up over Tsukishima. He kisses Tsukishima's sweaty forehead, movements slowing for him. His chest is warm against Tsukishima's.   
  
The small moment of rest is quickly interrupted. Yamaguchi does not make demands with authority. He sounds as if he is simply observing an obvious conclusion, or making a gentle suggestion. “Keep going.”  
  
Shimada hesitates for just a moment. Then draws back slowly. He pushes back inside Tsukishima, still slow, careful, but just as firmly. Tsukishima is hyper-sensitive, still orgasm-high, and gasps far louder than he wants to. He squirms in place, his nerves screaming or singing, he isn't sure. He presses back into Shimada's thrusts, unable to control himself.   
  
Yamaguchi isn't kissing his neck anymore, not touching him. He is just resting beside them, staring at Tsukishima with wide, interested eyes. His cheeks are clouded with red, but his gaze is clear, crystalline.  
  
“Are you okay?” Yamaguchi checks, as quiet as if they are the only people in the world.   
  
He doesn't think he can speak, and just nods weakly. His shoulders rock into the cool of the sheets, his whole body moved by Shimada's rhythmic thrusts. Shimada sounds relieved when he breathes, “good.”  
  
It doesn't take much longer. Shimada's cock twitches inside him, swelling, pressed deep inside him one last time as he comes. It's warm inside him, and strange, but he remembers Yamaguchi's words and he was right, he does feel good. A shiver runs up spine. Shimada is so close, hunched over him, that it is easy to reach up with one hand and touch his cheek, guiding him down for a kiss. Their glasses bump together. They stay entangled for a moment longer, and when Tsukishima turns his head to look, Yamaguchi is starry eyed.  
  
Shimada presses a final kiss to Tsukishima's forehead before drawing away from him. He tugs on a pair of sweatpants before rummaging in the closet for towels. He tosses them to Yamaguchi.   
  
“You two, bathe.”  
  
Yamaguchi is up and ready, waiting on Tsukishima. His legs feel weak. Padding his way to the bathroom is a slow process, but Yamaguchi doesn't call him out.  
  
He is oddly quiet, running the bath and undressing. Tsukishima is exhausted, and lets Yamaguchi help him bathe, until finally they are able to soak in hot water. It's a bit cramped with the both of them, knees bent, slouching low.  
  
Yamaguchi nudges Tsukishima's side with his foot. Tsukishima nudges back, feeling the flow of the water disturbed by their moving.   
  
He isn't entirely sure what expectations had solidified in his mind about sleeping with Shimada. He feels pretty neutral about it, now that it's over. Shimada made it feel good, treated him kindly.   
  
Yamaguchi had been star-struck. And now they are nearly dozing in the tub together. He feels content. The silence is cathartic. It is some kind of quiet acceptance, a wordless clarity.  
  
By the time they have dried off and dressed, the house smells like fried rice with vegetables and pineapple. Tsukishima picks out the sweet scent curiously as he watches Yamaguchi bounce into the kitchen to peer over Shimada's shoulder as he cooks.   
  
“You should have told me you were making dinner,” Yamaguchi says. “Tsukki's really picky.”  
  
Tsukishima doesn't bother denying it, and enjoys watching the two of them fret amongst themselves. Yamaguchi lists off foods and preferences like a well-rehearsed list, while Shimada chimes off dishes he can make to suit his tastes in the future, as if annual group dinners are a high priority for them all.  
  
He flips the tv back on, resuming the documentary from earlier that day. It talks about particles, linked together, circling each other for all eternity. He turns on closed captioning, because it is nice to hear Yamaguchi and Shimada's chattering from down the hall over the show.  
  
Dinner is delicious, even if he has to pick the bell peppers off his plate one by one. Yamaguchi nabs them, trading him extra pineapple in exchange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Yuu Nishinoysa has a lot of questions.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi

Yuu Nishinoya has a lot of questions.   
  
He chooses to let them all out in five solid minutes of talking, not once pausing for answers. The new first years are off to the side of the gym, being recruited by Ennoshita as he valiantly pretends that Tanaka is not trying to join the conversation. Hinata and Kageyama are already practicing together - Yamaguchi is not sure if this is for themselves or a show-off way to appeal to get new club members.   
  
“How was your Summer?” Nishinoya has moved on to. “Mine was great! I was worried about you after swimming and didn't go again because it was like a fresh trauma that I needed to process, so instead I spent a lot of time with Asahi-san! We beat like seven video games. What sort of stuff did you two do? How long were you in the hospital? Was it boring? Should I have come to visit you more? Do you want to hang out next Summer? Do you think those girls are here for you, or him?”  
  
Yamaguchi can only blink. A thought occurs to him that Nishinoya is far, far too collected and mature for being Nishinoya. He is too casual in the way he thinks, so that even when it is certainly a good thing that he thinks how he does, hearing about it feels vaguely uncomfortable.   
  
Seated against the wall, Yamaguchi leans to the side to see past Nishinoya. There are girls hovering in the doorway. He is not used to this. He knows that their games against Aoba-Jousai were well-populated with Oikawa's fangirls, but it's strange for Karasuno to have any. Even with the admittedly high population of attractive guys on the team, none of them are exactly charmers. If Sugawara's good looks and sincerity hadn't made the team popular last year, Yamaguchi somehow doubts Tsukishima's bitching and Kageyama's yelling is going to do the trick.  
  
Maybe it's just that they had done well in the tournaments last year. Watching the seats fill up for their games had been a steady increase all year. They had started out with practically no one, then Tanaka's sister, Akiteru, Shimada, Takinoue. Then Hinata's middle school friends, then more and more Karasuno students and family members. A disgraced team had made a comeback, and maybe that is worth something.  
  
The girls whisper to each other, giggling and blushing. Yamaguchi surveys the gym.  
  
Ennoshita is charming enough, but he imagines this is hard for them to appreciate with Tanaka sabotaging him at every turn. Tanaka himself could be charming if he could calm down. It's such a waste, Yamaguchi sometimes wants to complain, but bites his tongue.   
  
Hinata and Nishinoya are betrayed by their height and uncontrollable volume. As for Kageyama, he's got the looks, but he is too difficult to read – sometimes Yamaguchi privately thinks it is a mistake to think there is really anything at all going on behind his unreadable expressions. Then he feels guilty, because that is not a thought he is supposed to have on his own. It's supposed to be Tsukishima's whisper for him to laugh at.  
  
His gaze lands on Tsukishima in time to watch him smile, offering a friendly nod to the girls. His mind stutters so hard he cannot hear if they react. Sometimes he forgets that Tsukishima plays nice with people who do not know him well enough to earn his sarcasm.   
  
“They're probably here for Tsukki. Until they realize he's like a backwards tsundere,” Yamaguchi says.   
  
Nishinoya is in stitches, but Tsukishima only arches an eyebrow at him and does not dignify this with a response. The friendly smile, carefully practiced for strangers fades off his face. He sounds like he is weighed down by the heaviness of his good looks “You can call it what you want, but being a dick to people really ought to make me less popular, don't you think? And _yet_.”  
  
“Got that right,” Nishinoya agrees.   
  
It's easy to laugh along with him. It surprises Yamaguchi how easy it is to not feel jealous anymore. “Yeah, I'm super excited to deliver love letters to you, this year.”  
  
His insecurity isn't gone. He still feels shy and unsure about himself. Still feels unattractive compared to Tsukishima. Compared to, God, everyone around him. His hair is a mess and he _still_ hasn't gotten it cut since saying he would. His freckles just got darker over the summer. He's a mess, and he knows it.  
  
It's just that – it's hard to care. The things that used to consume him so wholly flit in and out of his mind with ease. They are just as real, but they are fleeting.  
  
“How nice of you,” Tsukishima says, flatly. “I'm looking forward to reading these love letters you're going to write me.”  
  
Yamaguchi only manages to blurt out, “wait, no,” before Nishinoya's laughter overpowers him. It is infectious enough that he joins in. Even Tsukishima cracks a small smile at his own joke. They are enough to get Ennoshita's attention, and he quickly calls them over to begin practice, proper.   
  
***  
  
It does not cross Yamaguchi's mind until much, much later, that Tsukishima made a joke about their not-quite a relationship straight to Nishinoya's face. And with sudden clarity, he remembers that Hinata has seen them kissing.  
  
He supposes, out of the relationships he is in, this is the secret less imperative to be kept.   
  
But they are not dating. They just...  
  
They just spend all their time together. They just kiss. They just – well, they haven't fucked yet, but Yamaguchi imagines this is only a matter of time. And he secretly thinks that maybe watching Tsukishima have sex with his boyfriend may be intimate _beyond_ just having sex with him, himself. He's not sure where that line sits.  
  
Tsukishima loves him.  
  
He loves Tsukishima.  
  
But he also does not doubt his love for Shimada. Not for a second.   
  
This is why it annoys him that he can picture leaving that relationship. He feels guilty for the thought even crossing his mind, for knowing with clarity that they are _negotiable_ , and that Tsukishima is not.  
  
He wants this to be healthy. Shimada always helps him feel comfortable, and the two of them discuss things candidly and honestly. It makes him feel like even his most irrational emotions can be quelled and worked with. It makes him feel like his medication works.  
  
His mind tries to rationalize having two boyfriends, one at twice his age, the other wonderfully bossy and high maintenance. But he knows that something like this is delicate. He knows that Shimada puts on airs of acceptance, surely beyond what he wants. He knows that Tsukishima is possessive and clingy beyond what will work with Shimada. He knows that his own anxiety and moods are sure to flare up.   
  
His doctors talk to him about it. Briefly, but he clings to the words and researches himself, and knows that neuroses commonly kick into high gear in the twenties. That's soon.   
  
Yet he can't imagine this drawing out so long. The same way he cannot imagine how this will sort out, in the end.  
  
Tsukishima holds his hand on the walk home. Yamaguchi is not sure which of them began it. Their backpacks are carefully, wordlessly, kept on opposite shoulders. They do not have to pull apart at every car that goes by, even if Yamaguchi's heart does a nervous back flip each time.   
  
This still has its own prejudice. His heart beats so hard that he can feel it in his throat, because God, this still has its own problems and what if Tsukishima actually has a future in sports? Tsukishima is too much of a resolute idiot to consider this, Yamaguchi knows. He is so strict on others for their idiocy but he has his own stubbornness all the same.  
  
Tsukishima is resolute as he turns down the street to head towards Shimada's house, pulling Yamaguchi along.  
  
Yamaguchi can't help but let out a startled, “oh,” but does not argue. Shimada's house is as good as his. If anything, he's pleased that Tsukishima likes it enough to lead the way there. Given the delicate nature of their situation, of their activities, this strikes Yamaguchi as a miracle.  
  
“Shimada-san is working late tonight,” Yamaguchi says. “We can still use his house, but he won't be home.”   
  
Tsukishima is terse. “That's fine.”  
  
He seems on edge. Yamaguchi stares at him for a long moment, studious. His shoulders are tight. His hand is clammy, grip almost uncomfortable, now. Yamaguchi has to breathe deep and tell himself not to echo the tension over his own. He feels Tsukishima's eyes on him, sidelong, watching him inhale. Exhale.  
  
“Then do you want me to cook us something, there? Or do you think we'll head home before then?”  
  
The acceptance of his sour mood seems to lessen it. Tsukishima's shoulders relax, slowly easing back. With their hands held, Yamaguchi feels faintly like a babysitter. Tsukishima says, sulky, “you cook.”   
  
He wonders what is on his mind. He would understand, with great guilt and remorse, if it were the whole 'sleeping with Shimada' thing. That would make sense. But with Tsukishima avoiding his own home, and with his tension dissolving the closer they get to the older man's home, Yamaguchi doubts that's it.  
  
They spend the rest of the walk discussing recipes, each trying to remember what groceries are waiting in Shimada's fridge. Yamaguchi lets them inside with the hidden key, and follows Tsukishima upstairs to the bedroom for now, careful in his steps as he tries to text message at the same time.   
  
_Tsukki and me are using your house! I'm going to cook us dinner, I'll make enough for you for when you're off.  
  
_ Yamaguchi stares at the message. Then, after a very, very long moment, sends a follow up message full of heart emojis. It feels self indulgent. He tries to hide the tug of his lips behind his phone, well before Tsukishima shoots him an annoyed look.  
  
He is surprised to get a text message back right away, given that Shimada should be at work.   
  
The message isn't from Shimada. Through amazing timing, it is Hinata.  
  
 _Are you two like. Out? Am I allowed to not shh about it anymore???_ _Not that I want to gossip or anything but like!! what if it comes up!!! you know??_ _  
  
_Yamaguchi stares. He sends back a question mark, but his expression has given him away, and Tsukishima is raising an eyebrow. Yamaguchi waves him off. He will tell him later.  
  
All Yamaguchi can think to send back is: _Hinata no._  
  
 _Okay_ _that's cool go at ur own pace. but_ _at least let me know who knows!!_ _Nishinoya-senpai and me obviously and Kageyama._ _And Kenma??? Why??????? Did you go visit Kenma without me??? I am confused Yamaguchi._ _  
  
_Yamaguchi laughs at Hinata's tactless support, but the sound comes out hysteric. Nishinoya is more perceptive than he seems. He is at his most clever when he is silent, just like on the court. That, or he makes assumptions.   
  
Yamaguchi feels nauseous. Kenma knowing doesn't bother him. He imagines that Tsukishima is more open with Kuroo than he lets on, and that Kuroo is just as open with Kenma as he lets on.  
  
Besides that, they weren't particularly discreet during their visit. His shame-induced nausea does not worsen because those two know, but because his mind concocts all the embarrassing details that clued them in. Like, for example, the musky smell of the bedroom after a night of fooling around. The fact that Yamaguchi is pretty sure he left his shirt there by mistake, come-stain and all.  
  
Tsukishima reads his anxiety like a book, and although it's unfamiliar to get a comforting touch from him, the palm gentle on his back still does its job. Yamaguchi exhales air instead of vomit. He congratulates himself for this.  
  
Tsukishima slips the phone from his hand, eyes only briefly darting to Yamaguchi's to silently confirm he has no objection. When he is met without complaint, he starts to read over the messages. He takes the phone with him to sit down on the bed, typing out the response himself.  
  
“Your message screen is so ugly,” Tsukishima complains.  
  
Yamaguchi's laugh is weak, but more sincere. “And yet I can look at it so much longer.”  
  
Tsukishima sniffs, then turns his attention to whatever conversation he is having with Hinata. Yamaguchi wants to read it, but knows he will get the chance later. He excuses himself to head to the kitchen and check what he can make them to eat. And to splash water on his face, but this is becoming less and less of a priority.   
  
The sound of his phone vibrating rapidly sees him off.  
  
***  
  
He hadn't meant to start cooking right away. But the fridge was a bit scarce, and in his search for _things that can be shoved together into a recognizable meal that Tsukishima will eat_ , he had covered the counter. It had practically been auto-pilot. The food was out, so he cooked it.  
  
It's nice to occupy his mind with something. It's nice to be robotic.  
  
When he finally makes it back upstairs, balancing two plates of vegetable fried udon, Tsukishima has made himself comfortable in bed. Yamaguchi's phone is sitting beside him, his interest now captured by some sort of science textbook from Shimada's shelf.   
  
Tsukishima has noticed him, he's sure, but does not so much as look from the page. Yamaguchi goes about setting up the low table for them, unbothered. While he waits for Tsukishima to reach a decent stopping point, he grabs his phone back.  
  
 _You know._ Tsukishima's text says, in response to Hinata. _Kozume and Kuroo know. Nishinoya knows._ _Why does the king know?  
  
I told him.  
  
You what.  
  
You can't expect me to not tell ANYONE you jerk. I'd explode!! but if it makes u feel any better he wasnt surprised and actually he was all 'oh I thought everyone knew that already' so actually wait I guess if you wanted it to be a secret that's not comforting  
  
_Tsukishima had not replied for four minutes, and Hinata has sent another message. _Anyway I won't tell anyone else but. I dunno. Treat yamaguchi good!!! I don't understand how he can love someone like you so much!!!! !! !! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
_ Hinata had caught on to the messages being from Tsukishima. Yamaguchi feels guilty for being impressed. Alongside it, a sudden rush of affection for him. He knows Hinata means everything he says, and it's... Sweet.   
  
Yamaguchi has never really had friends besides Tsukishima. He is used to deciphering looks and catering to Tsukishima's aggressive avoidance of honesty. He shoots Hinata a quick H _e's doing fine. Thanks, Hinata._  
  
Shimada has replied to his message. _l_ _ol. Okay._ _Make yourselves at home.  
  
_ It's a bit disappointing, but Shimada is not great at texting.   
  
There is a third conversation. This is probably the most action Yamaguchi's phone has seen in years. The number is unknown.  
  
 _Is Shouyou supposed to know that you and Tsukishima are dating?  
  
_ A good ten minutes later, another message from the same number, an after-thought, _Oh._ _This is Ken_ _ma_ _._  
  
He must have thought Yamaguchi didn't reply for lack of knowing who the text was from. He hopes the other boy was not anxious over it. He wonders what he said to have to be asking – if he feels responsible. He saves him to his contacts and taps out a response, catching Tsukishima's movement out of the corner of his eye.  
  
 _We're not. But he already knew, don't worry.  
  
_ Tsukishima sits down beside him, their knees knocking together. Yamaguchi does not even finish setting down his phone before it goes off with Kenma's response.  
  
 _He knew that you're... Not dating?  
  
It's... Complicated. Sorry, I don't want to dump anything on you, but don't worry about Hinata. He already found out on his own.  
  
_Yamaguchi accepts that he is just going to have to wholly dedicate himself to a text conversation with Kenma. The boy texts inhumanly fast. _It's whatever.  
  
_ Yamaguchi begins to set down his phone. It goes off again. _Sometimes it's easier to say complicated stuff to people who are less prominent in your life. Venting to_ _distant_ _friends can be easier than the people you're closest with.  
  
_ He waits a moment, and feels himself snickering as it goes off with a third message. _Sorry.  
  
Don't be. I appreciate it. I might hit you up sometime. Haven't bothered to clarify the situation with Hinata, so if it comes up, __just_ _call it dating.  
  
Okay. He does most of the talking, but I'll remember. Kuroo says hello.  
  
_Tsukishima clears his throat, staring Yamaguchi down with impatience.   
  
“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, and rushes to tap out a good-bye to Kenma. The other boy just looks at him, his mouth pursed in a thin line. “I'm popular now,” Yamaguchi tries joking.  
  
Tsukishima is unamused, and scowls down at his food. Yamaguchi begins to feel guilty for making him wait while he texted, then recalls that he had waited for him to stop reading and figures they're about even.  
  
They eat in relative silence, until Tsukishima grabs the remote from nearby and flicks the tv on. He slides the remote closer to Yamaguchi for him to pick what they watch. This is as close to an apology as Yamaguchi will get for his mood, but it is better than nothing.  
  
He finds some surreal comedy show to half-listen to until they finish eating. While he is picking up their plates to take back to the kitchen, he forces himself to ask, “are you alright, today?”  
  
“I'm fine,” the blond replies, but his terseness gives him away.  
  
Tsukishima is back on the bed when Yamaguchi returns from dropping off their dishes in the sink. The tv has been shut back off, its use as an apology-proxy done with.  
  
He hovers in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight ahead. This room, Shimada's room, that has been full of lazy days, important conversations, sex, food. Boring science documentaries and sabotaged racing games. And now, Tsukishima.   
  
He is stretched out comfortable, nose buried back in the book.   
  
Yamaguchi thinks of the day things had really started with Tsukishima, of the other boy's weight on his hips and hands rubbing knots out of his back. He climbs over Tsukishima, straddling him at his hips. He does not get a response.  
  
Tsukishima's hands had felt like heaven, kneading him into melted putty. Melted, half-asleep, aroused-as-hell putty.  
  
The other boy's back feels unfamiliar under his hands. He has to nudge his shirt and under-shirt up. It isn't the sight that's new, just the sensation of it. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He tries to think of the way Tsukishima had pressed into his spine just-so, tries to remember where he had fanned his fingers out.   
  
He doesn't really get it. But smooth skin feels good under his fingertips, and sometimes Tsukishima exhales in a way that is just relaxed enough that Yamaguchi has motivation to keep going.  
  
He tries to read the book over Tsukishima's shoulder, but it is full of big, confusing words. Yamaguchi recognizes _quantum entanglement_ , and leans forward, shifting in place excitedly.  
  
“That's the – the thing!” He tries. Tsukishima does not make the effort to crane his neck.  
  
He sounds disinterested. “The thing?”  
  
Yamaguchi does not remember it terribly well. A documentary he'd been half-watching. Something Shimada had recorded. He hadn't thought much of it, but with his book bringing it up, too, maybe it's something that interests him. Even the simplified science shows are too much for Yamaguchi. He figures Tsukishima is something of an unsung genius.  
  
Particles that taint each other forever, and can never escape the others influence for the rest of eternity.  
  
“The you-and-me thing.”  
  
Tsukishima is quiet. His shoulders jolt, just once, in what Yamaguchi knows is a bitten back laugh. He feels his cheeks heating up.  
  
“Hey,” the boy eventually says, beneath him. “When was the last time I said I love you?”  
  
Yamaguchi suddenly feels stupid, with his hands shoved haphazardly up Tsukishima's shirt, with the book Tsukishima is so absorbed in going way over his head. “Um. Three days ago? I think.”  
  
Yamaguchi had been desperately trying to finish the last of his put-off summer homework, hunched over at his writing desk with determination. Tsukishima had been desperately trying to distract him, curling over his back, hand sliding over his, around his pen. Lips dragging across his neck, murmuring a thousand innocent and less-than-innocent ways they could have spent their time better. He had laughed the confession to soothe him as Yamaguchi snapped at him, annoyed and amused and nerves all on edge.  
  
Tsukishima is kind of a dick when he's bored.  
  
“Good,” Tsukishima says. Yamaguchi feels good. “And before that?”  
  
This is like a quiz. Yamaguchi laughs, more at ease now. He returns to the unskilled, aimless back-rub he is giving the blond. It is kind of an excuse to feel him up. “About a week before?”  
  
He had said it almost unconsciously as Yamaguchi shoved a small carton of strawberries at him. On sale, courtesy of Shimada Mart, brought to Yamaguchi courtesy of Shimada. Then hand-delivered to Tsukishima as a brief escape from an Entire-Yamaguchi-Family-Spring-Cleaning-Day-In-Summer with his parents.  
  
“Approximately,” Tsukishima drawls. “Do you remember the day?”  
  
He has to think. He would not remember if not for how far in advance the Cleaning-Day had been scheduled. “It was a Tuesday. The sixth, right? About five pm.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Yamaguchi is beaming, ear-to-ear. He could even get the date. Maybe he _is_ that creepy. He leans down to press a kiss to Tsukishima's exposed nape, and awaits the next quiz question.  
  
“When was the first time I said it?”  
  
“Mid July?” Yamaguchi guesses. He doesn't recall the date, just that it was mid-summer.  
  
“Hm.” Tsukishima is unimpressed.  
  
Yamaguchi presses his fingers harder into the blond's hips like an apology. “In the evening. It was still light out since it was still summer. You smiled. I should get a pass on that, I was still on pain meds after drowning.”  
  
After a moment of consideration, Tsukishima's head tilts slightly to the side. “Fair,” he says, then lets out a quiet whimper as Yamaguchi nips him where his neck is more exposed. His play-pretend authority could melt away with a slip up like that, but Yamaguchi doesn't call him out, and waits for the next. “How long, exactly have I been in love with you?”  
  
“Oh God,” Yamaguchi groans. “How am I supposed to know that? You don't even know that.”  
  
Tsukishima laughs, his superiority reclaimed with the trick question. He is relaxing into the back-rub now, no longer pretending to read. He arches into the touch, squirms enough to let his clothes ride up more conveniently.   
  
“Alright. Then – when was the last time you said you loved me?”  
  
Yamaguchi freezes. His hands feel instantly clammy. He draws back, slow, sitting upright and staring down at the rubbed-pink markings across Tsukishima's pale skin.  
  
His voice does not sound like his own. “In junior high,” he answers, distantly.  
  
They have moved past it. Forgive and forget. Banish from memory, from conversation, from ever really having to deal with. Forgive and forget.  
  
His hands are shaking.  
  
He climbs down from Tsukishima, and stands awkwardly beside the bed. He clenches his fists at his side in hopes it will still them. It doesn't.  
  
Tsukishima turns his head to meet his gaze, and something interesting happens. For a brief moment he looks _smug_. He is smiling like he does when he is annoyed, when every inch of who he is has turned into condescension and pretense, calculated displays to  remind people how far below him they rest.   
  
That familiar look lasts maybe half a second, until his eyes lock with Yamaguchi and his whole expression falters. He goes startled, eyes wide, scanning Yamaguchi's face in a hurry.   
  
Yamaguchi figures whatever broken expression he's wearing right now must be more pathetic than Tsukishima was expecting.  
  
“Are you,” Yamaguchi manages, trying to keep his voice level. It wavers. He has to stop to swallow thickly. He wants to be compassionate and respectful. He wants to put Tsukishima at ease. He feels like he could choke on his own words and die. “Are you insecure? In that?”  
  
His mind races so fast that his thoughts are near incoherent, all break-neck fast justifications for Tsukishima's feelings and actions. His heart rate is just as uncomfortably quick.  
  
Tsukishima is quiet, looking at Yamaguchi in a way that is almost frightened, yet guarded, as if he is something unpredictable and dangerous.  
  
That feels terrible. He is being weird. Forgive and forget.   
  
Yamaguchi opens his mouth to say something comforting but nothing comes out. His jaw is so tense that it aches. He hears himself speaking evenly with more success than a moment ago. Emotionless. Good. His broken brain is overwhelmed with too many, right now. “I'm... Going home. I'll see you tomorrow”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Makoto Shimada is really not sure how to comfort the sulking blond in his room, but gets the impression that he should not ask for Yamaguchi's expert help.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In This Chapter: an extended anxiety attack
> 
> There aren't really many segments from Shimada's perspective less because of his role and more because I think I primarily am into age difference ships when it's pursued by the younger party. This is all fine and good in fiction, but... Look, even trying to justify it in fiction from the role of the adult is like... Nah... .... .... 
> 
> Anyway sorry for my sinful kinks please just endure my acceptance of what I am and am not about.

Makoto Shimada is really not sure how to comfort the sulking blond in his room, but gets the impression that he should not ask for Yamaguchi's expert help. Besides, even if he wanted to, he quickly spots the boy's phone, sitting on the bed next to Tsukishima.  
  
It doesn't take a genius to figure out they have fought. They were on good terms when they arrived. Yamaguchi had clearly been in a good mood, based on his texts. But he had left his phone, and of the two of them, Tsukishima was the one who stayed behind.   
  
Shimada does not want to think of Yamaguchi as someone who runs away, but sometimes when you're overwhelmed, it can be the best option. Maybe he just needs time to calm down. He is sure he will talk to him about it later.  
  
He is more concerned with Tsukishima. The boy has certainly become less cautious of him, but that doesn't change that he is far from his favorite person. That he only comes here to stick by Yamaguchi.   
  
Tsukishima is resolutely pretending to read on his bed, but does not turn the page for far, far too long. Shimada wonders why he hasn't gone home. He takes a seat at the table, still et up from when he assumes the two boys had eaten. He allows Tsukishima space and silence as he eats the left-overs that had been left in his fridge.  
  
Yamaguchi is getting better at making things without following recipes. Teaching him things is nice, but he can't deny the small nagging feeling of disappointment when it's no longer needed.  
  
When he is finished eating, Tsukishima still has not turned a single page.  
  
“Are you... Alright?” Shimada asks, carefully.   
  
Tsukishima looks at him like it is a tremendous trouble to do so. “Yes.”  
  
The silence stretches, awkward. “Do you need to talk? About anything?”  
  
He is surprised that Tsukishima considers this. He is unsurprised that he eventually says, “no. Anything I say to you will just get repeated.”  
  
“You think so?” Shimada asks, and laughs.  
  
It's enough to make Tsukishima question himself, asking slowly, “won't it?”  
  
Shimada forces himself to think it through instead of speaking thoughtlessly. It's better to confide in people removed from your problems, if all you're wanting is to vent. He knows that whatever the problem is circles the two of them, less than him, but also knows he is not uninvolved. He would like to say that he could keep a secret, but if it turned out to be something that would put Yamaguchi at ease or lessen a misunderstanding between them, he can't promise.   
  
He shoots for honesty. “Depends.”   
  
This amuses Tsukishima enough that he cracks a smile. It seems insincere, just like the way he hums, long and drawn out. Shimada can sort of understand what captivates Yamaguchi. He is sure he sees through the pretenses, or at the very least realizes they exist. But Tsukishima is clever enough to so easily put himself above others, so easily toy with them, like it's natural. It's impressive, for someone his age, how successful he is at this.   
  
Even when Shimada is not fooled, he is still impressed.  
  
He wonders if Yamaguchi thinks that sort of treatment is what he deserves. He wonders what that means about the inherent power imbalance of their ages.  
  
His gut churns with guilt, but this is nothing new.  
  
At least he is old enough, mature enough, to accept Tsukishima's mood as it is and brush past it. It wouldn't be productive to linger in it.  
  
“I won't force you to talk to me or anything,” Shimada says, in what he hopes is a soothing tone. “And I won't force you to leave. But you're here, and I'm here. So if you _do_ want to talk.”  
  
When Tsukishima does finally speak, it is nearly an hour later, when Shimada is beginning to steal worried looks at the clock. He sounds bored, as if he is being forced by someone else to ask the question they don't want to. “When was the last time Yamaguchi said he loves you?”  
  
Shimada tries not to think too deeply on the motivations behind this question. He thinks he has a good understanding of where the two of them rest, feelings wise, but can never be sure of their awareness of it. Or how correct he is or isn't.   
  
“He sent me a bunch of hearts today, if that counts.”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Yesterday.”  
  
He had stopped by the store to check on when he could swing by for after-school practices. He had bought a couple snacks, and leaned over the counter to whisper the words, conspiratorial.  
  
“Before that?”  
  
Shimada raises an eyebrow. Laughter comes easily, even if it makes him feel a bit guilty for the way Tsukishima scowls. “Is this a quiz?”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
The problem is, work days kind of blur together. So do 'I love yous.' The first couple are important, and the repetition is nice. Hearing it would make anyone happy, each and every time. That doesn't make it inherently memorable. “A think... A couple days ago?”  
  
Tsukishima goes quiet. Shimada had not realized how warm his cheeks are with nervousness until a gust of cool night air comes through the window.   
  
“And you're... Alright? With him being with me?” He is not asking permission. His voice is laced with suspicion.  
  
Shimada shrugs. “Yeah. He loves you.”  
  
Tsukishima's narrowed eyes meet his very briefly before darting to stare out the window. “Do you get jealous?”  
  
Jealousy has never really captured Shimada, before. He isn't unfamiliar to the sensation of it, he doesn't feel less desire to monopolize things than other people. It's just that those knee-jerk reactions quickly fade away for him, he has found.  
  
When you are feeling insecure, you tell people, and ask for what you need. As long as you communicate, and the other person accepts it just as easily, there is no reason to want to control anything.  
  
That's putting on airs. Of course he gets jealous, of course the feeling lingers. He chews his lip while he mulls over a proper answer. He knows his silence has already been too long to get away with a simple response.  
  
Maybe letting Yamaguchi stick by Tsukishima's side is just his way of distancing himself from what they are. At the very least, he's sure it had been at first. Maybe if he can repair something between them, cultivate something good for them, he can forgive himself for the damage he is sure he is doing.  
  
It isn't like he wanted it to crash and burn, or even expected it to. It's just that the self indulgent ideas of being with Yamaguchi when he is _actually_ an adult are getting more persistent in his mind, as if this is really feasible.  
  
Those future-thoughts are no excuse for the present. His lip is bleeding. He should know better. Forever is a myth he should have grown past believing, by now.  
  
“I do and I don't,” he eventually settles on. “I think no one can be faulted on their emotions, just how they act on them. So it's not as if I don't feel jealousy, I just choose to reject it. If I'm secure in being cared for, there's no harm in seeing someone else be cared for, too.”  
  
Tsukishima's laugh is incredulous. “An adult can be faulted for their emotions towards a kid half their age,” he says. Then, a feigned after thought, “but I suppose you chose to act on that one.”  
  
He winces. He doesn't really want to defend himself from that, even if his actions don't line up.   
  
For some reason, in the wake of the insult, Tsukishima sits up and says, “kiss me.”  
  
Shimada blinks. “Er?”  
  
“I'm upset,” Tsukishima says, so dispassionately that it is almost comical, “and you can't comfort me with words, so give me physical comfort.”  
  
He wants to insist again that he _really_ isn't in this because the two of them are young. He didn't ever intend for things to be like this with Tsukishima. He knows it would just come off defensive. But it is his job to be the adult, to be mature and responsible with this.  
  
“I think that's a bad idea,” he tries.  
  
Tsukishima sniffs dismissively. “And I think it's a good idea. Which of us do you think is going to win, _really_?”  
  
He winds up kissing Tsukishima. He can't sincerely argue against how comforting a warm body can be. It's hard to draw a line anywhere when he's already crossed the ones far past it. He leans over the bed, one hand bracing his weight beside Tsukishima as the blond arches forward to slot their lips together. Even with his leaning into it, it is easy to feel the tension slip from his shoulders, from his whole body.  
  
They are chaste and soft, light kisses that do not deepen, even if they go on for far, far longer than Shimada can justify to himself. He is short of breath, not from intensity, but persistence.  
  
The boy's breath touches his lips when they part, and fingers brush light on his arm, enticing him to continue. The room is quiet save for their intermingled breath.   
  
“So,” Yamaguchi's voice floats from the doorway, tinged with nothing but a slight uncertainty, “my phone.”  
  
Shimada pulls back slowly, and forces himself not to fly across the room from Tsukishima. He would not have done if he had thought it was something he would hide.  
  
He had just sort of imagined that would happen in words, not by being walked in on.  
  
Tsukishima takes the phone from where it is resting next to him and holds it out. The way they do not meet each others eyes, even as Yamaguchi crosses the room to take it, seems juvenile. Yamaguchi's eyes show how hard he is searching for words when they flit up to meet Shimada's.  
  
“I could have just brought it to you at school tomorrow,” Tsukishima finally says, still staring harder at his knees than anything else.  
  
Shimada examines closely the way Yamaguchi's lip quivers. He opens his mouth like he has a retort, his expression otherwise casual. Instead, he turns and leaves in silence.   
  
The two of them stare at the doorway in his wake, uncomfortable in the quiet.  
  
Tsukishima waits a short amount of time, surely just to put a buffer between the two of them, and leaves.  
  
Shimada is an idiot. He is an idiot for letting his emotions get ahead of him. He's not a child, anymore. Adults shouldn't repress their emotions, but they sure as hell should have a better handle on them by now.   
  
***  
  
Kei Tsukishima is a wreck. He does not think this about himself very often. Sometimes. _Sometimes_. But rarely, and not to the extent  that he thinks it of other people.  
  
It is somehow soul crushing to look at people like Hinata and Kageyama and think 'they look like they have it together,' in comparison to himself.   
  
He has temporarily shelved his sexual crisis in favor of the dawning realization that he is doomed. Of course he is. He aggressively burns bridges before even thinking about crossing them. Maybe it was only a matter of time before Yamaguchi's loyalty ran out.  
  
Yamaguchi does not look at him during class. He even runs off for lunch. Tsukishima eats alone at his desk and thinks he should be the one with the right to be throwing a fit. What part of Yamaguchi not loving him is a tragedy for _Yamaguchi_ more than himself? Ridiculous.  
  
Worse, Yamaguchi's absence is inherently attracting attention. Everyone from class, even idiots he's never spoken a word to in his life, are looking at him with concern. He can usually glower at them hard enough that they stop. It's harder to get the girls to leave, who seem to take Yamaguchi's absence as an invitation to chat.  
  
They are so much harder to fend off without help, without someone to ignore them in favor of, that he eventually gets up. He means to just go for a walk to escape people. He winds up in front of Hinata and Kageyama's classroom.   
  
The door is wide open. He tries not to look but it's hard to miss how noisy they are. Hinata and Kageyama are bickering, as per always. Yachi is nearby, facing away from him, but her shoulders shake with laughter and her hair bounces in its pigtail.   
  
Yamaguchi is seated beside them, his arms crossed on the desk for his head to rest on. His expression is unreadable as he stares at Hinata. Vacant, as if he is thinking, calculating silently.  
  
Tsukishima turns around and goes back to class. There's no point confronting him now.   
  
Not when, only hours later, they are stuck changing next to each other in the locker room. Yamaguchi's stiff shoulders give him second-hand pain. They stay quiet. Surrounded by other people is not the place to have a follow-up fight.  
  
He doesn't really want to have one at all.  
  
He had kind of been kidding. Sort of. He had thought – this is how he gets what he wants. This is how he plays with Yamaguchi, and Yamaguchi likes to played with. He considers whether that should be put into the mental side-compartment with his sexual crisis. Is it a crisis if they both like it? Is it sexual if it isn't _always_ sexual?   
  
He had thought he would bully him a little bit. And Yamaguchi would be a good boy, and explain why he hasn't said it.  
  
Tsukishima knows that they are more than just friends with benefits. But he also knows that the words not being said means something. He was just going to tease it out of him. Whether those words were “I love you,” or some clarification on what he feels instead of that and why, Tsukishima was willing to accept.  
  
Except Yamaguchi had looked terrified. That's not how it was supposed to go.  
  
His blocks are off all through practice. He throws too much strength into everything he is doing, silently, desperately trying to stop himself from over-thinking. He doesn't have the energy to taunt practice partners or even properly balance his energy.  
  
It doesn't even _help._ He just keeps seething inside his own head.  
  
In what way, he wants to demand, is he unreasonable for wanting to know where he stands? In what way has _he_ not been the one being used?  He knows better. He knows that it's a risk when their only conversations are coded the way they are.   
  
It must be apparent, because Hinata pulls him aside before he can get back to the changing room. He is not sure if he is grateful or resentful for the distance this puts between him and Yamaguchi.  
  
“Did you fight?” Hinata all-but-accuses.  
  
This annoys Tsukishima even further. He thinks back on Hinata's text. _I don't understand how he can love someone like you so much._  
  
 _A common misconception,_ Tsukishima's mind retorts to the memory of a text message in someone else's phone, as he stares silently at its sender. _He does not, in fact, love me._   
  
“No,” he eventually says.   
  
Hinata is open in his disbelief, but after a long, pointedly suspicious look, lets him go, rushing back to continue his after-practice practice with Kageyama.   
  
Yamaguchi is leaving the locker room when he gets there. He catches Tsukishima's eyes, then averts his gaze and continues walking.  
  
“Wait,” Tsukishima commands. “We'll talk.”  
  
Yamaguchi does not respond. He keeps walking.  
  
But he is waiting by the front gates when Tsukishima gets there. He is fidgeting, hands running through his too-long hair again and again, working out knots. A nervous habit. Pulling at his own hair.  
  
It alleviates Tsukishima's mood, just a fraction, that he still did what he was told. He exhales, a satisfied sound, quiet, but still enough to make Yamaguchi jump.  
  
***  
  
Tadashi Yamaguchi wishes he were actually having the heart-attack he feels like he is having.  
  
“Tsu--” he begins to greet, but trails off. It feels strange to use the friendly nickname when they are fighting. He doesn't want to be fighting. He is not even entirely sure they are _fighting_. There has been no yelling or snide comments. Just avoidance. Silence.   
  
It's worse, like this. Silence is worse than lashing out. Worse than any actions.   
  
He is used to the two of them always whispering and snickering between themselves all through class and practice. The walk home is usually quieter, but today it was the entire day. It had only heightened his nerves.  
  
Yamaguchi often wishes he were older. There's the obvious reason: it would be nice to be closer to Shimada's age. Beyond that, he wishes that he could run away harder. School isn't so bad anymore, with friends and teammates and motivation and a modicum of actual _skill_ , now.  
  
But he thinks of Kenma's text message and knows it is an escapist fantasy, but he thinks of being able to just get up and leave for a week. He wants to rest, he wants a break. Realistically, he knows that skipping school would only give him guilt and nerves.  
  
Besides, an adult would still have to go to work. Even adults have to suck it up and cope. Compartmentalize.  
  
The two of them walk in silence.  
  
Maybe they can just move past it. Forgive and forget. Yamaguchi grasps for something that makes him feel less on the cusp of a panic attack. He tugs at his hair, but at the way Tsukishima immediately glares at him, flinches and drops his hand back to his side.  
  
Maybe he can put him at ease on one subject.  
  
“So you um... Kissed Shimada-san.”  
  
Tsukishima's glare stays on him for a moment longer. Then he faces forward. He nods.  
  
“I'm not mad,” Yamaguchi says.  
  
“Good,” Tsukishima says, so snappish that Yamaguchi cannot tell if he is being sincere or not. “You shouldn't be.”  
  
He bites the inside of his cheek. It was shortsighted of him.  
  
They stop to get drinks from a vending machine at the park. Tsukishima takes a seat on the bench in a way that distinctly beckons for Yamaguchi to join him. He is grateful to sit. He is sure that he is all healed up after the summer; he feels fine, honestly. But the whole situation had meant he didn't get as much exercise as he should have, and now practice is draining all anew.  
  
Tsukishima takes a long sip from his drink. Sighs. “Do you love Shimada?” He asks.  
  
Yamaguchi stares down at his own drink as if his answer is somehow shameful. “Yes.”  
  
“Do you love me?”  
  
His breath hitches. He forces it even. “Yes.”  
  
He wants to look up at Tsukishima, but can't bring himself to do it. Even if he did, he doubts it would give him any guidance on what he is meant to do or say.   
  
They sit beside each other and look resolutely ahead.  
  
“Do you?” Tsukishima asks again.  
  
“What kind of question is that?!” He can hear the hysteria in his own voice. His fingers twitch around the can in his hands; he hears the tin sound of it denting and has to force himself to loosen his grip for the millionth time. He wants to _shake_ Tsukishima. What part of their relationship has ever, ever made him think otherwise? How is it even possible to take so much pampering and spoiling for granted? How can he miss the way Yamaguchi looks at him? Loyalty is the only admirable quality that Yamaguchi's got, and it isn't even recognized by the one it's directed at.  
  
He isn't expecting to be rewarded for being what he considers a good friend, he doesn't expect special recognition for it. That's not what it's about, but he would expect Tsukishima to have some self awareness of how fussy he is, how difficult.  
  
He knows that's not fair. That leaves Shimada out of the equation when he is the majority of the problem between them. Forgive and forget. Shimada is the problem, because the past is the past and the now is the now.  
  
He tries to convince himself. The mental block is getting weaker, though, and it feels like water pressure building up behind a dam. He doesn't want anymore water in his lungs, in his brain, in his heart.   
  
“It's a _fair_ question,” Tsukishima snaps, losing his composure right alongside him. “Look, if you don't, just – whatever. But I should get to know where I stand.”  
  
“I--” Yamaguchi begins, ready to blurt it out, ready to confess like an idiot. Because God, part of why he hadn't said it was because it seemed inherently obvious. He couldn't imagine Tsukishima _not_ knowing. Nothing comes out. He tries again and can't say it,  as if it's caught behind a thick lump in his throat.  
  
He is used to being frustrated with himself and his limitations, but he would never have expected it to be from _this_.   
  
When he does look up, Tsukishima has carefully wiped all emotion from his face, simply staring at Yamaguchi with an arched eyebrow. “Yeah,” he says, eventually. “That's what I thought.”  
  
“No,” Yamaguchi rushes. He wants to cry from the desperation to express himself, and his inability to do it right. “I do.”  
  
“But you can't actually say it.”  
  
He tries. He really, truly tries. He chokes on his words, and then the choke is a sob. He scrubs at his eyes and cheeks, his whole body overheated with shame, except for where the night air is cool on tear-stains. His voice is disgusting. He feels snotty and gross.   
  
Tsukishima can't keep the stone-wall expression up. He looks somewhere between pained and frightened, like he cannot choose which of them he feels more sorry for. Like he wants to comfort Yamaguchi but is far too bitter to actually do it.   
  
Yamaguchi knows the feeling.   
  
_Oh_ , he realizes, distantly. Like watching a movie, like a slow-motion flood, he thinks, _oh. I see._   
  
He dries his eyes roughly with his sleeve and snaps, “because I'm still mad!”  
  
“ _Why_ ,” Tsukishima snaps right back, his worry flipping into indignation.   
  
Yamaguchi tries to yell at him, but it just becomes a wordless, frustrated sound. His own tears are burning up his eyes, and he hiccups, pathetically trying to catch his breath. Tsukishima is seated hardly a foot away, but it feels like a thousand miles as golden eyes stare off into nothing, waiting for him to compose himself.  
  
He doesn't wait as patiently as Yamaguchi had hoped. “You can't honestly be upset that I had one stupid kiss with--”  
  
“That's not it,” Yamaguchi admits, cutting him off. He takes one more moment. Just one more. Deep breath. In. Out.  
  
He looks at Tsukishima more intently than he has all night. He needs to drink him in before the fallout. He knows this.   
  
The moonlight never does Tsukishima justice. Yamaguchi finds this ironic. He looks better in sunshine, in tree-shade, in concert-lights. He slouches, too tall to be used to sitting as upright as he should. Yamaguchi always likes to read the confidence in his body, likes to see the relaxation that comes from indifference, the indifference that came from superiority. Sometimes it looks like anger, and Yamaguchi likes that, too. Today the tension in his body language is unfamiliar. Yamaguchi doesn't know why. He knows that Tsukishima's anger looks like.  
  
Moments later doesn't find Yamaguchi in a much better state, but at least he manages to speak. “If I say it, things break. If I don't say it, things break.”  
  
Tsukishima is quiet.  
  
“I'm scared,” Yamaguchi says, just as hushed. His lungs feel weak. It's hard to breathe. The air feels like water. His voice cracks, “I was scared.”  
  
He wants to blame Shimada. That isn't fair. Not just because this mess isn't his to clean up, but because it isn't even the real problem.  
  
It's a flood-gate in his mind. He overflows. His words start to tumble out clumsily, too fast, so sudden that Yamaguchi is barely processing them himself. He can hear the manic lilt in his babbling. “I was scared, and it wasn't your fault, and you shouldn't _have_ to deal with it, and you're not responsible, I _know_ that , but,” his voice cracks again, and this time he can't get anymore words out.  
  
Tsukishima is quiet. Yamaguchi takes the time to try to sort himself out, still sniveling.   
  
“I'm not blaming you,” he says. His throat is sore. “But it was scary, and I was by myself.”  
  
He braces for sarcasm. For some observation on how pathetic he is to still be hung up on junior high. He is already wording a reminder that it was not Tsukishima's rejection, back then, that had been the biggest problem. It had messed with him, maybe even been a catalyst of some kind. But what had really ruined him had been the isolation as he worked through getting medicated. Daily panic attacks, intrusive thoughts. Hopelessness for months as everything spiraled uncontrollably. He had been alone, for it.  
  
He hadn't wanted anything specific from Tsukishima as support. If he daydreams of what 'support' would have looked like it would have just been being able to talk to him sometimes. Not even about what was happening, not always, at least. And that shouldn't have been asking too much, it wouldn't have _been_ too much if he hadn't made them break apart like an idiot. Is he allowed to feel abandoned when he was the one who stepped out of line?  
  
Brief moments of reprieve, playing video games together. That would have been nice, he thinks. Something to look forward to at school when anxiety only filled him with terror each morning, each class, each afternoon hiding away in the infirmary.  
  
The can in his hands crinkles under his grip again. The sound of it makes him loosen his fingers, but Tsukishima is quiet, still.   
  
When he looks up, golden eyes are watching him without hesitation, staring unabashedly as if he is something worth looking at. He can't meet the gaze for long, but knows Tsukishima does not look away.  
  
“I know,” Tsukishima murmurs, eventually.  
  
He can't tell if his mind is racing too fast to comprehend or if it has come to a complete halt. It feels like what comes from his mouth is all that exists as he whispers vehemently, “It was a long time ago. It's not like you could have done anything. You didn't have the responsibility to do anything. I'm the one that – I know that it was my fault that we stopped talking for a while. But I have to feel shitty about it, and I have to feel shitty about it by myself, and past all of that, I have to feel _guilty_ for feeling shitty about it.”  
  
“Quiet,” Tsukishima commands. His voice is wavering, with something still confusing and unfamiliar.   
  
Yamaguchi's skin feels like it's boiling – he stands up in a hurry, ready to yell at Tsukishima. Being told to shut up all the time is a joke, practically a secret handshake. Now is not the time. He doesn't know if he should be handling this more gracefully. Usually he can tell when his anxiety is irrational, even if he can't stop feeling it. Now he doesn't know if he is overreacting or not. He doesn't really know anything anymore except overtaxed emotions crashing wildly at the edges of his body.  
  
Tsukishima cuts off whatever incoherent mess he was going to say. “Sit.” Yamaguchi would ignore him if not for the hesitantly tacked on, “please?”   
  
He sits. He sets down his drink so that he can grip at his pants, clutching fabric over his thighs and watching the strain in his knuckles.  
  
He tries to let the cold of the night air into his lungs. It sort of works.   
  
“I'm not... Good with words,” Tsukishima says, eventually.  
  
Yamaguchi laughs, almost on reflex. “Sure.”  
  
Tsukishima huffs. “I mean... Not always. Not - sometimes.”  
  
“Me either,” Yamaguchi says. This is why he likes that Tsukishima usually takes the lead. Guides him. Does the talking. He likes the idea of filling in each other's blanks. It makes it hard to be angry at Tsukishima for a trait Yamaguchi has, himself. Even if it's easy to be angry at himself for it. He exhales. He can see his breath. He hadn't realized how cold it has gotten.  
  
“The observer effect,” Tsukishima says, abruptly, is if he is just being struck with an idea.   
  
“Buh?”  
  
“It's easy to articulate things that don't matter. Teasing someone, or tearing someone's side of a debate into pieces. Answering essay questions that you studied for all week.”  
  
Yamaguchi still doesn't understand. All his frustration is giving way to pure confusion, because maybe Tsukishima was right, maybe he is worse with words than he had noticed. He's practically just rambling, now. The urge to shake him has come back.  
  
“When you observe something, it changes. The act of observing it. The methods you need to use to observe will inherently have to affect it in some way.”  
  
Yamaguchi hunches over, exhausted. He brings a hand to rub at his forehead. “What?”  
  
“I'm saying I panicked.”  
  
Yamaguchi whips up to sit straight. Tsukishima's body is still all kinds of unfamiliar, but he relaxes when their eyes meet, just slightly. Nervousness, Yamaguchi realizes, belatedly. Insecurity. This is the strange weight in the other boy's body, the stranger unevenness to his tone.  
  
He knows better than to believe their weird play-pretend power structure, he does, but it's still a rare sight to see it broken. Rare enough he hadn't even recognized what those things looked like.  
  
Tsukishima shrugs. “I think... I thought that if I said it back, something would change. We'd have to be different from how we were.”  
  
“That's stupid,” Yamaguchi says.  
  
“Yeah,” Tsukishima agrees.  
  
It's easier to speak, now that his heart rate has slowed. They are talking, he assures himself. And it is miserable, but he does not need to keep panicking about it. Not when it is already happening.  
  
“That's not the point. I don't – I mean, it sucks. To get rejected. That sucked. But that isn't what I'm...”   
  
He flounders, searching for the word. Tsukishima offers, “resentful?”  
  
“Maybe something like that. But that wasn't why, you know...? It sucked. But the part that still – what I still get upset about was after that.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
He grips his knees, knuckles whiter than the moon. “You _don't_ know.”  
  
The hysteria is coming back.  
  
“Calm down,” Tsukishima says, more gently than he usually commands. Those are the worst words you can say to someone, Yamaguchi thinks, but it is with renewed clarity as the hysteria ebbs away obediently. “You're right. I don't know. Tell me.”  
  
He hesitates. “I don't know what to say.”  
  
“Then tell me later.”  
  
Yamaguchi's mind reels. He can just – do that. He can talk to Tsukishima later. They can have this conversation another day. They'll still talk tomorrow. Even all of this has not broken them, this time.  
  
“Okay,” Yamaguchi says. Then, “I love you, Tsukki.”  
  
He waits for something to break.  
  
Crickets are chirping. The stars are out, twinkling and blinking above them both. Tsukishima is still sitting beside him.   
  
“Love you too,” Tsukishima mutters, and Yamaguchi knows he is rolling his eyes. Just like he knows that he is blushing, knows that there is an out-of-place smile he is fighting back. “Obviously.”  
  
They stand up. They toss their empty cans into a recycling bin. They walk the rest of the way home.   
  
At Tsukishima's gate, they hover in a strange silence. It is not unpleasant. Yamaguchi feels as exhausted as he does relieved by everything. He wants to sleep. For a year. And then he wants to wake up, feeling as though all that rest passed by in just an instance, so that he can see Tsukishima at school in the morning.  
  
“I feel like we didn't resolve anything,” Yamaguchi says, tinged with nervousness, as if perhaps Tsukishima just hadn't realized it.  
  
Tsukishima says, “you love me,” managing to sound impressively smug for someone who had to go through so much just to make sure. Then he shrugs and says, “tend to the rest later.”  
  
“Nothing's... Changed,” Yamaguchi verifies. He is still dating Shimada. Loving Tsukishima, being able to say it, talking about things from before. None of that has changed this. And he is still sorting out what remains of his anxiety melt down after junior high. Still trying to figure out what matters enough to talk about. How to talk about it.  
  
“That's fine,” Tsukishima says easily. Yamaguchi hears the front door opening, hears Akiteru calling out to them. Tsukishima leans forward and kisses him good-night, audience be damned.  
  
He cannot really bring himself to do anything more than kiss back, enjoying the brief exchange of warmth. It's a rush. The first positive feelings all day. It washes over him so strongly, so much that he cannot be bothered to worry anymore. Surely, later, but not now.  
  
He leans to the side, waves to a very startled looking Akiteru, and heads home for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Makoto Shimada would really appreciate if he didn't come home to find teenagers making out on his bed quite so often.


End file.
